Good Little Soldiers
by iffiness
Summary: Sisfic! Starts at S01E01. More than just an insert character into an episode fic. Alex is John Winchester's secret daughter; she was born a year before Sam from an affair John had while married to Mary. As it turns out, no matter how secret a Winchester is kept, the curse of hunting follows them around. And maybe, just maybe, one good thing could actually happen to them.
1. Chapter 1: Introduction

_Hey guys, I'm trying out a Supernatural sisfic. This is just a little first person introduction, basically. The rest of the story is in third person. I just needed to pull in the idea of a sister before I jumped right into it. Next installment is set during S01E01. I hope you enjoy, and if you feel up to it, leave me a little review to help me know if my direction is okay with this?_

* * *

Not everyone could say they managed to scrounge up enough extra cash and two months off of work to go on a drive with no destination in mind. I could, though. I had been working towards that for a year before it even happened. My job wasn't very normal, anyway. I modeled for a living. Occasionally I made some of the outfits I wore. It wasn't a supermodel kind of job; it was more modest than that. And above all else: it was normal.

You see, ever since I was about five years old I wanted nothing else but to have a normal life. My Dad was mostly absent and left me in the care of a married couple a large chunk of the time; we traveled the country for fifteen years of my life before we settled in Nashville, TN. I was homeschooled until then. As for the traveling… Well, we didn't necessarily do it for the sightseeing. My real Dad's a hunter. My foster parents are hunters. And not of the big-game variety. They hunt_ things_. Supernatural things. Ghosts, vamps, changelings, shifters… You name it, they've probably killed it. And they taught me how to protect myself along the way. I don't know how you feel about it, but I think forcing a little girl to realize that all of her worst nightmares are actually real is a bit cruel.

My Dad still hunts, and my foster parents left to continue hunting, but I call Nashville home. Occasionally Dad'll visit me. He never liked leaving me with my foster parents, but he still left me every single time. He called in to check up on me now and then, and visited when he was able. He's always been overprotective, even now that I'm 23 and very capable of taking care of myself. My foster parents had moved on back to hunting as soon as I had graduated. Occasionally I'll go on a hunt with Dad, but only when he's in the area and needs an extra set of hands. I may not have the best relationship with the man, but I do love him. My foster parents didn't feel as strongly about him. But that's why I was so excited to finally get to leave, on my own, for even two months. Deep down inside, I missed the traveling; I loved meeting new people and exploring new places. I just didn't like that most of those people I met had some sort of spooky, creepy-crawly thing after them. But now? I was going on a normal vacation. Finally.

And Dad was by no means happy about it.

* * *

"Alexandria, reconsider this," my Dad said again, his dark brown eyes narrowed, watching me stuff a duffel bag into the backseat of my red '67 Shelby GT500. "Going off on your own like this just isn't safe. And it's stupid. You know how many things could happen."

"Yeah, Dad, I know," I mumbled, again, and moved to open my trunk. I heaved up the bottom of it, exposing assorted hunting paraphernalia. "I'm not just some stupid girl. I'm prepared for anything I may, probably won't, run across."

I let out a huff of air as he pushed past me, peering into the trunk to see just how well I had prepared. Standing back out of his way I began to braid my dark brown hair, loving that I was able to let it grow down to the middle of my back now that Dad had no say in it, my deep brown eyes, so similar to his own, watching as he meticulously went over everything in my trunk. He paused for a moment over a katana, glancing at the inscription.

"I had it blessed by a Shinto priest downtown," I quickly mumbled, realizing he was expecting me to tell him what it was. When he nodded in affirmation and replaced it in its sheath I deflated a little, glad I had at least passed his test. I had prepared for a lot of possibilities. A blade blessed by a Shinto priest was really only good for a freaking alcohol spirit from Japan.

"Alright, so you have a lot of good stuff in there," Dad said finally, running a hand through his mop of brown hair. "But I still just don't know…"

"Dad, c'mon, I'm okay to do this. You know I am. You gotta cut off that leash around my neck sometime." It was frustrating to have a hunter for a father, especially one that was more of a drill sergeant than a dad. Sure, he was worried about me in his own weird way, but I think he was more concerned that there was a possibility I could run into something freaky and not be able to take it out on my own. It'd be a pretty big slap in the face to find out a person you'd been training for their entire life was killed by some no-named vampire on their first time out by themselves.

"Damn it, Alex," he grunted out, snapping his eyes from the trunk to mine, "There's no damned leash around anything here. I'm just trying to look out for you."

"Are you?" I asked again, slamming my trunk closed and removing the keys from it. "Because it sounds to me like you just want to make sure your secret daughter doesn't end up in some ditch somewhere. It's not like I'm going out on a hunting trip."

"My _only daughter_," he emphasized, grabbing my wrist as I tried to get into the drivers seat. "I'm trying to make sure my only daughter doesn't end up in some ditch somewhere."

"Well, news flash, she won't," I snapped at him, pulling my wrist away. "If there's anything I do know it's how to protect myself. If you need my help with something just call, okay? If I'm in the area I'll swing by."

He let out a long sigh, stepping back and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Alright. I expect an update from you weekly."

"Yes, sir," I replied, shutting my door. As soon as the car was started I was speeding away, my engine revving and AC/DC's Highway to Hell blasting. It was going to be a good two months.

* * *

"Fat bottomed girls you make the rocking world go 'round," I sung under my breath, my shotgun held tightly as I edged closer to the doorway. This was definitely not what I was expecting when I checked into the Casper Motel in Casper, Wyoming. A friggin' ghost, really? I had to find Casper the very not friendly ghost at a place called Casper in Casper? I drive for 20 hours straight and when I decide to stop for some sleep I have to pick a haunted motel?

With a deep breath I steadied myself, quickly rounding the corner with my shotgun trained into the room, ready to blast any spirit in front of me. When I didn't see anything I carefully moved into the room, my umber colored military boots making barely a sound as I checked the corners around me, half expecting the spirit to appear and make it easier for me. Finding no signs of the spirit being there for the moment I turned my attention to the body of the man I had heard screaming, shaking my head slightly as I assessed his slit throat. There was no way he was still alive. I dialed 911 on the phone by his bed, leaving it to ring out as I left the room. I couldn't stick around for when the feds showed up, and I had a grave to go desecrate. That poor smuck back there just happened to be the next victim of the spirit. I was only hanging around to try and save him. Some good that did.

I threw my duffel into the tan leather passenger seat as I took off, towards the cemetery where that bitch was buried. It hadn't taken long for me to notice the signs of the haunting, and then research the building. It was a pretty cut and dry thing. The spirit was a woman who was raped and murdered here about thirty years ago. Apparently she only kills someone who's committed the crimes that were done to her. So, ultimately, that guy she had killed was a douche… but she was a ghost. I had to gank her.

An hour and a half later I was dropping a box of lit matches onto the salted and gasoline'd bones, wiping the sweat off of my brow with the back of my hand and watching momentarily before I picked up my shovel and trudged back to my car. My lightly tanned skin was stained with graveyard dirt and no amount of scrubbing was removing it, so I opted for putting on the old hoodie I kept in the trunk as I threw the shovel in. I had to skip town and find a new place to board up for the night now, but hey, at least I killed a freaking ghost. Hurray.

Three hours later I was finally at a new motel in Rapid City, South Dakota. I checked in and immediately went to shower, letting my dark locks out of the braid it was in and giving myself a long look in the mirror. I was tired. That was obvious by the circles under my eyes. I had been gone from home for 23 hours now and I still hadn't slept. I'm an insomniac by nature, considering that as a child we didn't do an awful lot of sleeping between jobs, but I looked like hell right now. My skin was still streaked with sweat and dirt, my normally expressive brown eyes were dull, and even my favorite skinny jeans didn't seem to make my legs look as good as normal. Yeah, I had a thing for my own legs, sue me. I was about 5'8" and all legs, if you ask me. I don't see why I shouldn't embrace them.

I quickly stripped and showered, and twenty minutes later I was crawling into the sheets of my bed in my underwear, reaching a hand under the pillow to make sure my gun was where I left it. My phone was lit up on the nightstand beside of me and I thought of calling Dad for a second to let him know about the haunting I had taken care of, but the thought was dismissed quickly as I was lulled into a dreamless sleep by the semi-lumpy mattress beneath me.

When I woke up the next morning, though, I did call Dad while brewing a pot of coffee. It rang three times before he finally picked it up, causing me to grimace. "I didn't wake you, did I?" I asked, carefully pouring some of the black liquid into a mug.

"No, no," he said quickly, trying to cover the sleep in his voice and I could just imagine him rubbing his face as he sat up in bed. "What is it?"

"Ganked a spirit last night," casually I sat back down on my bed, glancing to where my clothes for the day were laid out. "I got to Casper, Wyoming, and checked into a motel only to find out it was haunted. Figures, doesn't it? I'm not even one day into my vacation and I'm already working again."

"Did you skip town after you burned the remains?" he asked instead of saying something about my comment like I'd hoped, causing me to sigh.

"Yeah. I'm in Rapid City, South Dakota," my tone was flat as I replied, taking a sip of the liquid caffeine, recognizing his voice as being more of a drill sergeant than a Dad. "It's about three hours from where I was."

"Good," his gruff voice replied, and I could vaguely hear the sound of a coffee pot starting to brew. He and I were maybe more similar than I liked to admit. "Do me a favor and stay away from Sioux Falls."

"Why?" I inquired, immediately regretting it as I heard what sounded like a coffee mug get slammed into the counter.

"Because I said so, damn it," he snapped, causing me to wince a little as his tone. "Need anything else?"

"No, sir," I replied instantly, and was rewarded with the click indicating he had hung up. I knew he was glad I had called to let him know about the spirit, but that part about Sioux Falls… Well, that sounds just too good to pass up.

Five hours later I was pulling into a little diner on the outskirts of Sioux Falls, smiling a little at the guilty pleasure I got from disobeying a direct order from my dad. Small victories are still victories, after all. But I was starving. It was nearly noon now and I had only had three cups of coffee for sustenance. I put the car in park as I dug around in my purse, an olive green hobo bag, for some cash to nab a salad and a milkshake. Mumbling an 'aha' as I found ten bucks I exited my car, locking the doors and pocketing my keys into my coat. I smiled a little again as I glanced around the diner, being in an overall good mood. I was wearing my favorite coat, which was knee length, black, and warm with a bit of flare at the bottom; my shirt was a simple white v-neck tee, my pants were dark blue skinny jeans and my umber combat boots were laced up around the outside of the pants, an outfit I thought looked pretty damn good for being so plain; the look was finished with my hair in a braided bun on the side of my neck and my makeup was applied to look both sassy and natural all in one.

So yeah, I felt good and I looked good, so I waltzed into the joint like I owned the place and took a seat at the bar. I think the woman who took my order was as envious of me as I was of her. She had such a pretty face and I had a banging body. We were like two pieces of a puzzle that couldn't have been put together. I mean, my face wasn't bad, but it was littered with a ton of freckles. I couldn't stand it. My nose was pretty normal, petite maybe, and my cheekbones were high. My lips weren't necessarily the fullest, most kissable lips ever, but I tried to ignore that. At least I had my eyes going for me. They were almond in shape, and a dark shade of brown that could change from a honey color to black depending on the light; on a few occasions some of the men I'd been with had claimed they could get lost in my eyes forever.

I was pulled out of my self observation when my salad was presented to me with my peanut butter milkshake, making me smile obnoxiously. My stomach was growling like a bitch at this point. I was scarfing it down with no remorse when I noticed a man had sat himself down beside of me and was watching me out of the corner of his eye, causing me to sit my fork down and turn to full on stare at him. I hated sneaking around and would rather get straight to the point.

"What? Can a girl not eat her salad without getting eyeballed?" I questioned the man, my voice portraying how annoyed I was. His stupid trucker hat only worsened my mood. It was filthy.

"It is you, idn't it?" he replied with a grin, his voice and country twang filling my head with memories I hadn't thought of in a long time. "Damn girl, you got big."

I blinked a few times in uncertainty, staring at his bearded and wrinkled face as I tried to remember… "Uncle Bobby?" I finally asked, a smile breaking out onto my face as he nodded in affirmation.

"I saw that old Shelby out front and then you sittin' in here," Bobby grinned, waving off the menu offered to him. "Remembered how you'd always said you wanted one of them cars. What're you doing here, girl?"

"Well, honestly," I mumbled, taking a large gulp of the peanut butter milkshake before starting again, "I'm on a mini-vacation. Sorta. It was supposed to just be me driving around the country for a couple of months until I had to go back to work. But then yesterday I was about twenty hours out, in Wyoming, and my motel had a bit of an issue with the electricity."

I waited and watched to see if he understood what I meant, which was my covert way of saying there was a haunting I had to deal with, before continuing. "So I took care of that for them and moved on to Rapid City. Called Dad this morning to let him know, and he says 'do me a favor and stay away from Sioux Falls' and I said 'screw that' and came anyway. But honestly, I had no idea this was where you lived, Uncle Bobby. I completely forgot. I'm sorry."

"It'd be silly to think you'd remember," Bobby replied with a laugh, slapping me lightly on the shoulder. "Last time you were here you were eleven and smaller than that stool you're on. That's been years ago."

"Yeah, no kiddin'," I responded, shaking my head as I pushed my meal away and laid down the cash to pay for it. "I'm 23 now and try my best to stay away from hunting. Time flies, doesn't it?"

"Damned straight it does," he replied, standing up an offering out his hand. "You in need of a place to stay?"

"I'm only in town for a day or so, and I don't wanna intrude," I replied quickly, shaking my head. "I mean, I didn't even remember you lived here until just now."

He seemed to think about that for maybe a millisecond before shrugging and pulling me up, causing me to laugh. "C'mon now, you idjit," he pushed me towards the door with a grin, "Ain't no way I'm gonna let you stay in some ratty old motel if you're in town. And maybe you could tell me about how you an' your Dad have been doing since you up an' disappeared."

"Alright, alright," I laughed, holding my hands up in defeat as I went out towards my car. "Just lead the way. I definitely don't remember."


	2. Chapter 2: S01E01 Pilot part 1

_Here's the first part to S01E01: Pilot. It'll probably be divided into two or three parts per episode. And I'll try to keep the episodes as canon as possible (but obviously I'll have to change things eventually to fit in a whole new character). When it goes into Alex doing solo things I can't give an estimate on how many parts or chapters it'll be. But I hope you enjoy this! This has been posted a few hours after the initial posting of the introductory chapter, mostly because I'm just impatient! Review if you wanna, because I always need more criticism. _

* * *

Three hours later and seated comfortably on Bobby's old couch Alex finished regaling him the story of the last twelve years of her life with a certain mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She knew Bobby didn't really know the hunter couple she had been living with for most of her life, but he seemed okay enough with them. She had missed her Uncle Bobby but had no idea how to contact him in all of those years, and actually hadn't tried since she turned 18. Her dad left her here with Bobby when she was little while he and her foster parents went out on more dangerous hunts until he and Bobby had a falling out. After that her dad just made her stay with the foster parents and they made her stay in motel rooms for days and days until they came back broken or bloody from their hunts. Hell, Bobby was more of a father to her than her own dad. He used to take her out to do actual kid things instead of teaching her how to use a gun. How pathetic was that?

"So, a model, huh?" Bobby asked with a grin, causing her to grin in response. "Sounds awful girly."

"Shut up," she remarked, flipping her bangs out of her eyes, "I was a tomboy when I was little. Did you really think I'd stay a tomboy forever?"

"I could dream," he said wistfully, chuckling as he saw her roll her eyes. "So your dad really let you settle into a normal life, huh?"

"Well, sort of," she amended, shrugging. "If he needs help he calls me. Helped him out with a djinn a few weeks ago actually."

Bobby sighed and shook his head at that, leaning back into his seat. "That's a damn shame. You've got a chance at something normal and he can't let you have it."

She shrugged, leaning back on the couch and pulling her legs up so that her arms could rest on her knees. "I don't care too much. I don't think normal is something I could ever have, honestly. It's just nice to pretend sometimes. Hell, Bobby, I didn't even get to go one day on my vacation without running across a haunting. Being a hunter is a curse you can't get away from. You know that."

"Yeah, well, at least I got to choose this life," Bobby took a swig of the amber colored liquid in his glass before sitting it down, sighing. "I don't honestly know what the hell John was thinkin', draggin' his kids into hunting."

She only shrugged her response, letting her eyes wander around the room. It was a lot more cluttered and dustier than she remembered. She knew about her brothers already from her foster parents. They never liked to keep that a secret from her. But apparently she was a secret kept away from them. It was made her upset to think about that. She always felt like John was ashamed of her or something and trying to hide her away from his perfect sons. The Winchester boys.

"Speaking of, when's the last time you did any prying about your brothers?" Bobby asked, smiling smugly as she looked at him in surprise. "Oh, you don't fool me. I'd be surprised if you didn't keep tabs on them. So, what's the news?"

"Uh…" she stuttered out, glancing at the red polish on her nails. "Well, last I heard, Sam actually managed to get out of the death grip Dad had on them. I think he's going to some university in California now. Pretty sure Dean is still riding around with Dad."

She didn't know why it surprised her so much that Bobby knew she tried her best to keep tabs on her brothers. Bobby knew her better than anyone ever did when she was little. It figured that he still knew her really well, despite the years it had been. And she really had tried her best to keep up with the lives of her siblings. When she was little she would daydream about what it would be like to have them around. Dean was older than her by a couple of years and Sam was younger than her by one. It'd be interesting to be the middle child. Sam would look up to her, Dean would look out for her… But that was all a fantasy. In reality she knew nothing about them except that their Dad cared about them more. She had started calling them the golden boys when she was sixteen and on a vamp hunt with her Dad in some town. He had said something along that lines of 'if Dean were here this would've been over an hour ago' and it had hurt. A lot. So she had become a little bitter after that, and she had pushed herself to train even harder than before. That was before she decided to try and get out of hunting.

"So, Sam's out of the life then?" Bobby clarified, bringing Alex out of her self-induced spiral into depression. "And at some college? You know, if I were a young woman with two brothers out there who didn't know she existed, and wanted to meet one without her Dad knowing… Well, I'd say the perfect time for that would be when one of them is on his own, wouldn't you?" Bobby was still smiling smugly as he sat back and watched her think over what he said, his arms crossed. He had been pushing for years for them to be introduced to each other. Of course he would give her an idea for a way to make it happen. He strongly disagreed with keeping them all separated, especially since it meant one of them was left on their own.

"But…" Alex said slowly, a hand covering her mouth as she thought about it, her nose scrunching slightly. "Well, I suppose that would be the best time… but Bobby, there's no way I'll be accepted as some sister who randomly pops out of nowhere."

"So don't introduce yourself as his sister. Whatever. That's your call. But I think you might should go visit him," Bobby gave her a gentle smile, one he had reserved for her years ago when she started calling him 'Uncle Bobby'. He was always proud of her, no matter what she chose or how long it had been. And that was enough of an incentive for her.

Alex finally returned his smile, standing up to embrace him in a tight hug. Affection wasn't really Bobby's strong suit, but he hugged her back nonetheless. "Think you could do some digging and find out where he is exactly?" she asked Bobby as they released each other, smiling widely as he said he would. Yeah, Bobby was definitely a better father to her than John ever was.

* * *

Twenty-six hours later Alex rolled into a parking space at a motel in Stanford, CA, checking herself in. She decided to take a nap and shower before she set out to find Sam, promising herself she wouldn't screw it up and would just come out with the truth. Sam deserved to know; Dean too. But she was still nervous.

Two hours later she was up and showered, dragging on a pair of light blue skinny jeans and a purple v-neck tee, followed shortly by her coat and boots. Her hair was in a long braid hanging down her back, her makeup once again done up in a natural style. She wasn't going out to impress anyone tonight. She was going out to talk to her brother. That didn't even know she existed. This was bound to be fun. The information Bobby had gotten her pointed her in the direction of a local bar students frequented. She was bound to run into him there. It was a Friday night. What college guy wouldn't be out at a bar?

And exactly fifteen minutes later, seated at a small table by herself, she saw him. Her 'little' brother. That was the understatement of the year. The guy was friggin' huge. He fit Bobby's description of him almost to a T. She watched on in silence as he sat with a pretty girl, dressed up for Halloween like the rest of the people in the bar. She wasn't surprised that Sam hadn't dressed up. When you know there are actual things out there that'll kill you it becomes a little harder to want to celebrate a night dedicated to it.

Alex watched on in silence as her brother seemed to be celebrating something with his… girlfriend, and friends. At least she hoped it was his girlfriend considering they were kissing. She just couldn't bring herself to interrupt them. Sam looked so happy. So, ten minutes after Sam arrived, Alex was already leaving without having spoken to him. How could she do that to him? He was out. Living a normal life, like she had been. If he was anything like her she knew he'd hate a reminder of the life he used to have. That included a random person coming at you in a bar saying that she's your sister.

She was walking silently back towards her motel, her heels making a barely audible clicking sound as she went, lost to her own thoughts of how her little (and larger) brother was obviously happy and she shouldn't bother him, when she was suddenly grabbed from an alley she passed by, causing her to quickly panic and move into self defense. She and her assailant had gone back and forth in holds until he finally slammed her against the wall of the brick building to their left, causing her to hit her head and become slightly dizzy.

"Who the hell are you?" a gruff voice barked out at her, his forearm across her neck. "Why were you watching my little brother?"

When she could focus her eyes again they widened. She was staring directly into male version of her own face, minus a thousand freckles. "Dean," she choked out, her hands coming up to his arm and prying at it, trying to get him to loosen his grip so she could explain. At least, she hoped it was Dean. They looked too much alike to not be siblings, even if it was technically half-siblings. His green eyes narrowed even more after she said his name, but he did loosen his grip more for her to talk. "I was watching _our_ little brother, you ass," she spat at him when she could, which was apparently the wrong thing to say considering his arm pressed into her windpipe again.

"Bullshit," Dean spat back at her, pulling out his knife and sliding it across Alex's cheek. He hesitated slightly when she only winced a little as he cut, putting his knife away and instead pulling out an old flask and throwing its contents onto her face.

She sputtered some as she closed her eyes, shaking the holy water off. "Not… a demon… or a shifter…" she managed to gasp out, and was relieved when the pressure was relieved from her windpipe. She sucked in greedy breaths as Dean took a step back from her, giving her a once-over, probably taking in how similar they looked. When she recovered enough air she managed to straighten up and look at him, and was more than a little satisfied to see his lip was bloody and he had a bruise forming on his cheek. He may have been bigger and stronger than her, but she was definitely quick and tricky and got in a few hits before he pinned her. "Look, I know this seems really odd," she began slowly, pulling a small piece of cloth out of the bag hanging at her hip to press onto her cheek. "That's because it is pretty damned odd. But that's our entire lives almost. Mine, anyway. My name is Alexandria, but don't call me that. Call me Alex. Our Dad is John Winchester. He kept me a secret from you guys. I dunno why, I always figured he was just ashamed of me or something, considering I'm sort of a secret love child or whatever. I was watching Sam because I was gonna introduce myself to him tonight. I had no idea you were even in the area. I was just gonna pop in and say hello and then leave. I swear."

"Do you have any proof?" Dean finally asked, his arms crossing as he stared her down. "Because from where I'm standing, you're just a pretty little girl saying a lot of big things."

"No. I don't have any proof," Alex admitted, frowning now. "If Dad even knew I was talking to either of you he'd tear me a new one."

"Hey, is everything okay down there?" a random voice called from the opening of the alley, causing both Alex and Dean to jump in surprise. Of course someone saw them down there. And in this dark it could've been mistaken for something much worse than it was.

Dean seemed to be stumbling over words, so Alex spoke up. "Yeah!" she called back, waving at the guy. "My brother's just a little pissed because I snuck out to see my boyfriend again!"

The guy seemed to accept that as he just waved and started to walk on again. Dean was the first to speak up. "Seriously? 'My brother's pissed because I snuck out to see my boyfriend'?"

"I didn't see you taking charge of the situation," Alex snapped at him, removing the cloth from her cheek to see if it was still bleeding. "He would've called the cops if he started to suspect something."

Dean shook his head, his arms crossed again as he watched Alex wipe at the dried blood on her cheek. He had no idea what to make of this chick. Normally he'd just call his Dad and get this all sorted, but that was why he was in Stanford to begin with. Dad was missing. And he needed Sammy's help. Maybe Sam could help out with this situation, too.

"So, uh, if we're through here," Alex spoke up after a moment, awkwardly glancing towards the exit of the alley, "I'm gonna go. Don't worry. I won't be hanging around and stalking Sam anymore." She peered into Dean's green eyes with her deep brown ones for a moment before carefully moving around him, going to leave.

In that instant Dean made a decision, grabbing her upper arm-gently-and pulling her back. He stared down into her eyes for several seconds before sighing and shaking his head. Those eyes were a little too good to be faked. They looked just like his Dad's. "Look," Dean said slowly, releasing her arm and shuffling on his feet a little. "If... if you are my… sister… Well, uh… Have you talked to Dad lately?"

"Yeah," Alex replied instantly, her brows furrowing in confusion. "I talked to him yesterday."

Dean seemed to be instantly relieved by that, running a hand across the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Good. That's good. I haven't heard from him in a month."

"What, really?" Alex was pretty surprised at that revelation. Since when did Dad choose to talk to her over the golden boys? "No way. He never, ever picks me over you two. He'd talk to you before me any day of the week."

Dean shrugged at that. He barely even knew the woman in front of him, and sure as hell wasn't completely believing her whole sister story. "Could you call him up? See what's going on?"

"Dean…" Alex said slowly, glancing towards her bag where her phone was. "I dunno. If he knows I've come here and talked to you he'll be pissed. He never wanted you two to know about me."

"Look, what'd you say your name was? Alex?" he asked, his hands on his hips. When she nodded he continued, "Alex. This is our Dad we're talking about. He'd probably be pissed no matter what. So come on. If you're really my sister you'd do this for me."

Alex immediately rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Really, Dean? Seriously? Starting with the blackmail a little early tonight, aren't you?" she grumbled, the sarcasm in her tone enough to make Dean barely crack a smile. She begrudgingly got her phone out, flipping it open and scrolling down to 'Dad' in the contacts. She hesitated slightly as Dean moved to hover beside of her, but ultimately pressed call and held it to her ear. She rolled her eyes again as Dean leaned obnoxiously close to her, his ear pressed to the other side of the phone.

"Alex," John Winchester answered immediately, his voice tight as if he were stressed and she called at an inopportune time. "What is it?"

"Uh…-" she stammered glancing to Dean with wide eyes who was also looking at her. "Well, uh…-"

"Spit out, damn it. I'm busy," John snapped, and they could both hear his truck engine revving up more in the background.

Finally Dean took control, flipping the phone slightly so that he could talk but left it to where she could still hear. "Dad," Dean said gruffly, a frown on his features. "Where the hell are you?"

"Dean? What the hell?" John sounded legitimately surprised to hear his son over the receiver, but it was also with a slight undertone of annoyance. "Alex, where are you?"

"Stanford," she replied, closing her eyes as she could practically feel the scolding in his voice. "I, uh…- I was going to talk to Sam. But I changed my mind. And then Dean jumped me in an alley."

"Did you hurt her, Dean?" John asked, his voice edging on a reprimand, and Alex glanced to the side to see Dean's eyes widen.

"Uh, no, uh… 'Course not. Why would I do that? She's family, right? Family doesn't go around hurting each other." Dean's stumbling over words made Alex almost laugh before she remembered that her Dad was on the phone.

"This isn't exactly the way I wanted this to happen," John finally said, but he sounded distracted. "Just, look. Kids, I'm busy. I've gotta go."

"Dad!" Alex and Dean said at the same time into the phone, both of them turning to glare at the now silent device in Alex's hand.

Alex finally pocketed the device in her hand before turning her attention to Dean, who was now staring at her with some new kind of look in his eyes. One she had never seen before in anyone else's.

"So, you weren't kiddin'," he finally said, a hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

"Nope," she affirmed, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat. "So… was it just me, or did Dad sound a little… stressed?"

"He definitely sounded weird," Dean said with a nod, relieved in the change of conversation. "So, uh, you staying around here somewhere?"

"Yeah, there's a motel a little up the block from here. Why?" Alex asked, looking up at Dean in confusion.

"We're sort of standing around talking in an alley and there's still some blood on your face," Dean said quickly, glancing from her cheek to her eyes.

"Oh," she replied, understanding what he meant as soon as he started eyeing her cheek. "Yeah, follow me," Alex stated, starting out of the alley only to be caught by her arm again.

"Let me… uh, let me go first," Dean grumbled, moving past her and looking in either direction out of the alley. He was pretty paranoid, but Alex couldn't blame him. He had been actually living as a hunter for his entire life. She only did it on occasion since she turned fifteen.

Alex didn't complain as he took lead, and they both walked in a semi-tense silence until they got into the parking lot at her motel. "Whoa," she breathed out suddenly, stopping to stare at the black car parked beside of hers. "That's Dad's car."

"Uh, yeah," Dean said, grinning like a little kid as he sauntered over to it. "Mine now."

"You're still a kid at heart, aren't you?" Alex mockingly chastised, moving past it to where her Shelby was. "This pretty little thing you parked next to just happens to be mine."

Dean raised an eyebrow at that revelation, moving around to give it a good look. She could tell he was comparing their cars as his eyes kept moving between them, and finally he said, "Mine's better. And bigger."

"Are you seriously comparing sizes with me?" Alex groaned, stomping away from him and to her room, located not too far from her car. "Fifteen minutes with you and you're already a pain."

Dean just grinned at that, following after her. At least he seemed to be easing up to her a little, she thought, but she had a feeling he was still hanging around because he didn't trust her. And she couldn't hold him at fault for that. She closed the door behind him as he entered, taking her coat off and tossing it onto the single bed in the room. "Bienvenidos a la casa de Alex," she sarcastically said with a smile, motioning around the room dramatically with one hand. When Dean plopped onto her bed she groaned again, moving backwards to where the sink and mirror was. She was glad he had enough sense to not cut her deeply as she was cleaning it out, glancing in the mirror to see Dean was poking through her duffel bag on the table by the door.

"Hey," she called out in warning as he pulled out her bra, "I hope you remember I'm your sister."

"Half-sister," he replied, grinning as he put the bra back down and turned to face her.

"Still incest," Alex muttered, finished cleaning her face off and moved on to re-apply her makeup. "So are we gonna talk about this at all? Or are you just gonna pretend you're okay with it while secretly watching every move I make?"

"What, you mean randomly finding out you have a sister after attacking her in an alley? Yeah, I'm totally okay with that." Dean's level of sarcasm was something she could definitely appreciate.

"You're an ass," Alex told him, turning around after she was done and leaned against the sink. "So, what do you want to know?"

"How old are you?" Dean asked immediately, sitting on the bed and watching her, scrutinizing everything she did.

"I'm twenty-three," she replied calmly, crossing her arms under her chest as she watched him digest the new information. "I was born in upstate New York. My mom dumped me off on dad when I was two years old or something. It was after your mom passed away. Dad dumped me off on the nearest hunters he could find. I traveled around with them, learned how to be a hunter, and occasionally dad would come around and teach me things too. When I turned fifteen I finally convinced the hunters I was with, Larry and Lauren, to settle down at least long enough for me to finish high school. So they did. And when I turned 18 they ran off to start hunting again. I've been living in Nashville, Tennessee, since I was 15. I work at a sorta small modeling and clothing design boutique; I don't hunt anymore..., well, not that much. I'm supposed to just be on a vacation right now. Good enough?"

Dean just shrugged, standing up from his seat. Alex was pretty thankful that he had left the fact that she had been born before Sam alone. "Good enough for now. Pack up, we're leaving."

"Uh, excuse me?" Alex demanded, pushing herself off of the sink to give him a deathly glare. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, _little sis_," Dean seemed to be enjoying that a little too much, "You heard Dad. You know something's going on, and it ain't good. I'm going to get Sam and we're going to go find out what's going on with Dad. What are you gonna do, go to Hollywood and pretend Dad ain't in danger while you have the time of your life on 'vacation'?"

Alex groaned and threw her head back in frustration, moving forward to start packing her things away. "God, you really are an ass," she mumbled as she stuffed her toiletries into her duffel bag, putting her coat on and then shouldering the bag. "So that's it then? Dad doesn't deny we're related so you're just automatically okay with me?"

"Of course not," Dean automatically replied, grinning and handing her the gun out from under her pillow, "That's why I'm not letting you out of my sight. Starting… Now."

"Uh, no," she replied, shaking her head, "I'm with you until we find Dad. Then I'm gone. If I'm lucky it'll only take a few days so I can get back to my life."

"Whatever," he shook his head, standing up and walking to the door. "Oh, and I'm driving. You're riding with us. So leave that tiny little thing here."

"No way," Alex replied quickly, shaking her head repeatedly. "I am not leaving my car in some motel parking lot."

"Sure you are, princess," Dean responded with a grin, going and popping open his trunk. "Now get whatever you need out of there and toss it in. We've gotta go get Sam."

Alex groaned, staring at Dean incredulously before moving to her own trunk and popping it open, dragging out a large suitcase and popping it onto the ground beside of her. She then pulled up the false bottom she had installed in her trunk, exposing her mini-armory inside it. Dean was by her side already, and gave a low whistle at the toys she had within.

"Damn," Dean said, lifting up one of her shotguns and admiring it. "For not hunting you certainly have a lot of hunting shit."

"Dad wouldn't let me go off on my own for two months until he saw I had all this junk," Alex told him with a sigh, sifting through it all. "I'm just not sure what all you already have and what all I need to take."

"We've got everything you've got," Dean said, tossing the gun back down. "Just not in triplicate. So you'll need to add some of yours to the pile if you want any."

"Then start moving shit," she snapped at him, shoving the shotgun he was fondling back into his hands. She was definitely not happy about not being allowed to take her own car. "I'm gonna call Bobby and ask him to come tow my car back to South Dakota."

* * *

A little under thirty minutes later Alex was climbing into the passenger seat of the Impala, having parked her car in a parking garage for Bobby to pick up tomorrow. They had successfully added some of her things to the armory in the Impala and had tossed her suitcase and duffel in the backseat.

"Seriously, why do you have such a friggin' huge suitcase?" Dean asked again, glancing in his rearview mirror at it.

"Dean, honestly, how are you surprised? I said I worked at a modeling and clothing design company. I like clothes. I wear clothes for a living," Alex's tone was wildly sarcastic as she flipped her braid over her left shoulder, glancing sidelong at Dean as he put the Impala into drive and peeled out of the lot. "Unlike you, I can't just be satisfied with a leather jacket and some jeans."

"Right, because a t-shirt and jeans makes all the difference," he rebuttled, speeding down the mostly empty street. It was nearing 1 AM by now.

"A t-shirt and jeans tailored to fit my body in all the right ways," she corrected, mockingly rubbing her sides for emphasis, "And a coat that's both form fitting and flexible. It's the best of both worlds with me. Comfort _and_ style."

"Whatever," Dean grumbled, shaking his head as he pulled onto a side street and slowed to a stop outside of an apartment complex. "We're here. Wonder if Sammy's home yet."

"Well, there's always one way to know for certain," Alex replied, cocking a lopsided smile at Dean as she climbed out of the car. Dean seemed to catch onto what she was getting at as he suddenly grinned, sauntering past her and to the door of the building, crouching down to pick the lock.

"How likely is it that Sam'll jump one of us as soon as he hears us in his apartment?" Alex asked, casually leaning up against the wall by Dean and also keeping an eye out for passersby.

"Pretty damn likely. So hang back a little. Unless you wanna get your ass handed to you," Dean pushed the door open and started walking in, flashing a grin back at her.

"I can handle myself," she replied with a frown, crossing her arms and following him in. She was small and nimble, but not large and powerful. She knew his was a legitimate gripe, but it wasn't something she could help. There was just no way she could out-muscle a guy who was a head taller than her.

"I'm sure you can, princess," Dean responded cheekily, patting her cheek as they stopped at a door that was clearly Sam's. Well, clear to them. It had a couple of warding symbols carved discreetly on the sides. They followed the same procedure as before as Dean picked the lock, and soon both of them were traipsing inside.

She did as Dean had suggested and hung back a bit, and was very glad for it as Dean was suddenly pounced on as he rounded a corner. Alex watched on and tried not to laugh as the boys duked it out, their fight stopping as Sam got a better look at Dean. She heard them converse a little before finally ending their fight, pulling themselves off of the floor and continuing their conversation.

"What the hell are you doing here, Dean?" Sam asked quietly, the frown on his lips quantified by his puppy dog eyes.

"I was looking for a beer," Dean replied, him and Sam locked in a staring contest. It lasted until the lights suddenly flicked on and the pretty blonde Alex had seen with Sam at the bar before was standing in the doorway to the room.

"Sam? What's going on?" she asked, obviously confused and definitely in her underwear.

"Uh, Jess, this is Dean. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica," Sam spat out quickly, looking between them.

"Like, your brother?" Jessica asked quickly, looking between Sam and Dean. It was her that first noticed Alex. "Who is that?"

Apparently Sam hadn't even noticed the brunette in the corner until then, because he was suddenly marching towards her with a pretty dangerous look to his eyes before Dean stepped in his way. "Whoa there, calm down," Dean said, holding his hands up and pushing Sam back a little. "She's with me."

Sam took a step back, which made Dean relax and move out from in front of Alex. She and Sam took a moment to look each other over before she took a step forward, holding out her hand. "I'm Alexandria," she said simply, offering up a smile as she craned her neck to see him. He was definitely giving her a very scrutinizing, very strange look. When he took her hand and started shaking it she spoke up again, "Call me Alex. I'm the sister you never knew about until right now."

Dean snickered and shook his head at how she had broken that news, watching Sam's face as he quickly thought about what she had said.

His grip on her hand tightened and his eyes jerked back to Alex's face, then to Dean, who just nodded slightly at the question in Sam's gaze. Sam finally released Alex's hand and took a step back, giving her a real look. The silence in the room was palpable until Jessica spoke up.

"I… uh, I'm gonna go put on some clothes…" Jessica managed to get out, looking between the three others in the room.

"Yeah, give us a few," Dean said to her, throwing a tight lipped smile her way. "We need to talk to Sam about some personal family stuff."

"No," Sam said suddenly, moving back to wrap his arm around Jessica before she could walk away. "Whatever you have to say to me you can say to her."

Dean looked between Sam and Jessica for a minute before turning to Alex, who shrugged, and in turn Dean shrugged. "Fine. Uhm. Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

"So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later," Sam sounded sure of what he said, his arm tightening around Jessica as he looked between Dean and Alex.

Dean ducked his head slightly before looking back up, his expression grim. "Dad's on a hunting trip," he clarified, locking eyes with Sam. "And he hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam's jaw clenched as he thought over that, but his expression overall didn't change. "Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside."

The three of them made their way outside shortly after Sam put on a pair of jeans and a shirt. Alex stood off to the side by herself while the boys turned to face each other in the stairwell outside, the dim glow of the street lamp above them illuminating them.

"So, first, who the hell is this?" Sam began, pointing a long finger at Alex, who frowned at the uneasiness in his voice.

"Yeah, it's weird. I know," Dean grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall behind him. "But she's our sister. Apparently. I mean, Dad didn't bother denying it."

"I thought you said he was missing?" Sam cut in, his attention back to Dean.

"He is!" Dean replied, anger putting an edge to his voice. "I had her call him. Apparently she saw him just two days ago. He answered her. He wouldn't answer me."

"He probably won't answer me again now," Alex added, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat and looking up at the two of them. "If he's ignoring your calls, and knows I've made contact with you, he'll ignore me too. So we're kinda screwed."

"Exactly," Dean exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair. "And he was missing. I mean, obviously he's not dead, but he sounded weird, Sammy. Something's not right."

"So, what? You expect to just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you? And our mysterious new sister?" Sam asked incredulously, looking between the two of them like they were insane.

"Technically, the B&E was her idea," Dean mumbled, jabbing a thumb at Alex who mocked being offended before he continued, "But yeah. I know it's weird. But Sammy, c'mon, man. Are you gonna come with us or not?"

"No," Sam replied instantly, a frown permeating his entire being. "I'm not."

"Why not?" Dean asked, insulted that his own brother didn't want to go help him find their Dad.

"I swore I was done hunting, Dean. For good," Sam sounded authoritative, but to Alex it seemed like he was trying to convince himself.

"Oh, c'mon, it wasn't that bad," Dean grumbled, starting down the rest of the flight of stairs, the other two following behind him.

"Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet he gave me a .45," Sam responded, the anger in his voice rising again. "I was nine years old, Dean."

"What was he supposed to do?" Dean responded, leading them towards the Impala.

"I dunno, tell me not to be afraid of the dark?" Sam quipped back, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.

"You kidding me?" Alex spoke up from behind Sam, causing both him and Dean to glance back at her. She had been silent until then; she felt like she was almost intruding on a private moment. "Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You should know better than anyone else what's out there."

Dean nodded his agreement, a small smile barely showing up on his face for a second, glad to have someone taking his side for a change. "Yeah, man. What she said. C'mon, we've saved a lot of people doing this."

"You think Mom would've wanted us to be raised like this?" Sam asked angrily, stalking behind Dean as they finally got to the Impala. "The weapon training, and the melting silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors."

"So what are you gonna do?" Dean turned to face Sam, glowering at him. "Live some apple pie life? Is that it?"

"No, Dean," Sam groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm going to live a safe life."

Dean looked away, obviously thinking, before he said, "So that's why you ran away."

Alex glanced between the boys from her position off to their right, feeling completely awkward and excluded. She hadn't figured to even be asked (forced) to come with Dean, but now that she was there she suddenly felt out of place. When it came to squabbles like these, at least.

"No, Dean," Sam sounded incredulous again, causing Alex to glance at him as he spoke. "I was just going to college. Dad's the one that said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing."

"Yeah, well," Dean began, moving to the Impala and laying a hand the top of it, "Dad's in real trouble right now. I can feel it." Sam was silent as he watched Dean motion for Alex to go around to the other side of the car, obviously making it appear like they were going to leave. "I can't do this alone," Dean told Sam, his green eyes watching Sam's face closely.

"You're not exactly alone," Sam pointed out, motioning over the top of Dean's head with his eyes, towards Alex, who still stood silent.

"Yeah, well, I need you, Sammy," Dean finally said, glancing behind him slightly to see if Alex was insulted by what he had said. When he saw she had just a normal, unaffected face instead of the pissed one he expected he turned back to Sam.

Sam sighed and hung his head for a minute, thinking over it, before looking back at Dean. "What was he hunting?"

Dean took that as a good sign, moving around to the trunk and propping open the armory, digging around in it. "Where the hell did I put that thing…" he grumbled while Sam and Alex stood awkwardly beside each other.

"So," Sam began, glancing from Alex to Dean. "When Dad left, why didn't you go with him? And what about you, uh, Alex? How come neither of you went with him?"

"He visited me a couple days ago," Alex told him, craning her neck to look into his hazel eyes with her brown ones. Sam couldn't help but to notice how similar they were to their dad's, just as Dean had. "I was packing up and heading off on a two month vacation. I have a real job in Nashville," she clarified for him when he seemed confused, "I don't really hunt anymore. But he showed up as I was packing up my car. Told me I was being stupid for going off on my own for a couple months. Normal stuff for him. I had no idea anything was even wrong."

"So he just let you go?" Sam asked her, an eyebrow raised as he watched her. He was pretty intrigued after she had said she had a normal job. "Just like that? Off on your own?"

"I had been living on my own in Nashville for five years already," Alex smiled, glancing back at Dean who was still looking for whatever he had misplaced. "And it wasn't like I was going off on a hunting trip. Although I did end up ganking a ghost that was haunting a motel I stopped at in Wyoming."

"And I was working my own gig," Dean finally added in, standing up from the recesses of the trunk, "This, uh, voodoo thing in New Orleans."

"Dad let you both go off on your own?" Sam seemed almost offended by that.

"I'm twenty-six, dude," Dean rolled his eyes, pulling some papers out of a folder he had found.

Alex shrugged at Sam, opting instead to peer around Dean's shoulder to see what he was looking at. She felt like Sam was at least opening up to her a little bit at this point. But she knew he'd have a lot more questions for her given the opportunity.

"All right, here we go," Dean pulled out a paper, reading the headline on it. "So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy," Dean handed the paper to Sam, assuming Alex had seen it already considering she was right beside him. "They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA."

Sam read over the missing persons paper before glancing up, looking at Dean and Alex. "So maybe he was kidnapped," he murmured, and was rewarded by both Dean and Alex giving him a shockingly similar, exasperated look.

"Sure, Sam, except here's another one in April," Dean tossed down another into the trunk, "Another one in December 'oh-four, 'oh-three, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two, ten of them over the past twenty years." Dean pulled the first paper away from Sam, throwing it into the folder with the rest of them. "All of them men, all on the same stretch of 5 mile road." Dean put the folder away and pulled out another bag from the trunk, pulling out a tape recorder. "It started happening more and more so Dad went to go check it out. That was three weeks ago. Then I get this voicemail yesterday."

By this point there was no denying there was a haunting of some kind going on. At least to Alex, anyway. And when she glanced at Sam she could tell he thought the same thing. And when Dean hit play on the tape recorder Alex could barely make out her Dad's voice through the static.

"Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger."

Dean pressed stop at the end of the message, glancing up at Sam. Sam's face was pensive as he thought, before saying, "You know there's EVP on that?"

"Not bad, Sammy," Dean complimented, grinning at him. "Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Sam shook his head and Alex mumbled 'unfortunately' before Dean spoke up again, "All right. So I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got."

Dean pressed play again, and immediately the creepy voice of a woman said, "I can never go home."

"Never go home…" Sam repeated slowly, watching as Dean dropped the recorder into the trunk and shut it, leaning up against it.

"Sounds like a good, old-fashioned haunting," Alex added, glancing between the two of them.

"You know," Dean started, looking directly at Sam, "In almost two years I've never bothered you. Never asked for a thing."

Sam sighed and looked away from Dean, obviously trying to avoid the guilt trip Dean was taking him on. When it failed, he looked back at Dean, then towards Alex. "All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him." Dean nodded, pleased with that, and Sam continued, "But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here."

Sam turned to go back into the apartment complex, but paused when Dean asked, "What's first thing Monday?"

Sam seemed to become a bit nervous, shifting his weight a little, "I have this...I have an interview."

Dean rolled his eyes, standing straight off of the trunk again. "What, a job interview? Skip it."

Sam got even more awkward as he looked from Dean to Alex. He didn't really know her, but she had said she had a normal job. Maybe she'd understand a little better than Dean. "It's a law school interview. Basically my whole future on a plate."

Dean smirked at that, crossing his arms, "Law school?"

Sam shook his head, not commenting. "So we got a deal or what?"

Dean didn't reply, which Sam took as a yes. Sam had gone back into the building when Dean finally turned to Alex, looking down at her. "So… you're really our sister?" Dean asked her again, more like a final clarifying thought to himself than to her, causing her to look up at him in mild surprise. She had thought he had accepted that already.

Her face quickly molded into a slight pout, her dark brown eyes suddenly becoming doe-ish as she stared up at Dean. "Yeah, I am," she mumbled, wrapping her arms around her torso. "I know it's weird. I can leave, you know. Just say the word."

Dean shook his head as stared down at her, groaning slightly as he saw the look her eyes had taken on. "No, damn it," he grumbled, placing both of his hands on her shoulders. It was just his luck to have two siblings capable of using their eyes to their advantage. "If you're really our sister, and you're 23, that means our Dad cheated on Sam and mine's Mom when we were little. It's just… weird. You know?"

"Yeah…" Alex said quietly glancing down and away from Dean's piercing green orbs. She felt like she was being interrogated by their Dad with how he was acting.

"I mean, Dad didn't deny it. And you look a hell of a lot like him. And us. Sort of. And he raised you to be a hunter, too, so it's not like you're completely oblivious. I just don't understand why he tried to keep you from us," Dean took his hands away from Alex's shoulders, glancing back to the apartment, as if he expected Sam to just come skipping out in the short five minutes it had been since he went in.

"Probably the whole 'secret love child' thing," Alex reminded him, shaking her head and leaning against the rear of the Impala. "I always just figured he was ashamed of it. You know, 'cause your Mom..."

"Yeah," Dean interrupted quickly, leaning beside of her. "But still. We deserved to know we had a sister. I mean, family's important. And you're family."

She glanced up at him, trying to gauge how honest he was being. "I wouldn't know," she finally admitted, looking down at her boot clad feet. "I mean, the couple Dad left me with were nice enough, Larry and Lauren. But it wasn't exactly a whole familial kind of affair. The closest family I had was Dad, and he was sporadic at best."

Dean shook his head, about to comment on that, until they both heard the door to the apartment building close again as Sam came out. Dean pushed aside whatever he was gonna say and instead grinned down at Alex. "Looks like you've been demoted to the backseat, princess," Dean was all play now that his brother had tossed his duffel bag into the backseat of the Impala.

"I happen to like backseats," Alex quipped back at him, offering her own grin his way. "I have a lot of good memories involving backseats."

Dean groaned, throwing himself into the drivers seat as Sam and Alex got in. "Okay, did not want to know that."

Alex rolled her eyes as she maneuvered herself into the middle of the seats, digging around in her own duffel bag until she pulled out a thick notebook and a pencil. "Like you've never done it in this backseat before," she grumbled, leaning back in the seat and flipping the pages until she landed on a blank one.

"Maybe I have," Dean replied, peeling out of the parking spot, "Maybe I haven't. It's a mystery."

"Not really," Sam mumbled, causing Alex to snicker as Dean's head quickly turned to Sam with a look of mock betrayal.

"And I thought having to deal with one snot-nosed little brother was hard enough," Dean murmured to himself, focusing back on the road. "But now there's an annoying little sister, too? This has got to be some sort of cruel joke…"

Sam and Alex opted to ignore Dean's pathetic mumblings. Alex just started the outline for a dress she had an idea for, and Sam turned in his seat slightly to watch her.

"So, uh," Sam began awkwardly, trying to make out what she was doing in the dark. "You've got a normal job? How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-three," Alex told him amicably, glancing up at him before returning her attention to the book in her hands. "And I do have a normal job. Sort of. I live in Nashville, and I work at a sort of small modeling and clothing design place. I've pretty much stopped hunting altogether. Kind of. Occasionally Dad'll call me and I'll help him out with something, but he doesn't do that often."

Sam nodded a little and sat back in his seat, thinking about what he had learned before asking his next question. Alex had assumed this would happen, honestly. And it looked like Dean knew it, too, because he was just quiet and listening. "So were you raised into hunting?"

"Yep," she replied, closing the book and setting it aside. "How about I just start talking and you can ask questions if I don't make something clear enough? Because I have a feeling Q&A could take hours." Sam nodded at that, consenting to that idea, so Alex continued: "Alright, so, I was born in upstate New York somewhere. My mom raised me until I was 2 and then dumped me off on Dad, apparently. And he freaked and threw me at the nearest couple he could find, which happened to be Larry and Lauren, and they raised me up until I hit 18. Dad popped in and out of my life at random, taking me on hunts sometimes, but I never really got to know him until I turned 20. We went on a hunt that lasted a solid two months together. Since then he's kept in touch. Well, you know, as much as he thinks is necessary to keep a relationship," Sam's light chuckle encouraged her to continue, "So, basically, until I was 15 I traveled and hunted. Then I forced Larry and Lauren to at least pretend to be around in Nashville while I finished high school. Then when that was done they bolted, so I got a job and stuck around the area. Good enough?"

"You left out your prom date and how he broke your heart and how your best friend stole him from you," Dean added sarcastically, causing both Sam and Alex to snap 'shut up, Dean' and Dean to grin.

"So he just kept you a secret from us for our entire lives," Sam said darkly, glancing at Dean and then back at Alex. "That's sort of shitty."

She shrugged at him, "That's life. And once we find him I'm going back to Nashville, so it doesn't really matter."

Sam shrugged himself before turning back around in his seat, eyes on the road we the three of them fell into silence, one of Dean's classic rock cassettes making the only noise.


	3. Chapter 3: S01E01 Pilot part 2

_Hey guys! Thanks so much for the overwhelming support I've received for this project so far. So I have figured out some semblance for a schedule: somewhere between 1-7 days per update. I'm sorry I can't give a specific day. My work schedule is random, so I write around it, and it just so happened I could get these three parts out in quick succession. So, again, thank you guys! Especially those who have reviewed (you know who you are! thanks so much!). If you have questions or any concerns review and let me know, I'll start answering them in the next installment. Alright, here you go, enjoy! Only one part left for S01E01 after this!_

* * *

Alex was woken up the next morning by Dean slamming the brakes on as they pulled into a small gas station, causing her slip into the floorboard of the backseat. She groaned as she pulled herself back onto the seat, glaring at him. "You're such a dick," she mumbled, which only caused his grin to grow wider before he hopped out of the car and moved to fuel her up. Sam popped open his door and stretched his long legs out of it, pulling a box onto his lap from the floorboard to rifle through the tapes in it. Alex threw her door open, too, and climbed out, stretching out a kink in her back. "Gonna hit up the bathroom," she said to Dean as she moved past him, going inside of the rinky-dink store.

"Hey there, honey, what can I get for ya?" she was greeted immediately by a sleazy looking guy in his mid-40s, who was leaned up against the back of the counter and eyeing her in an obvious way.

"Just going to the bathroom, thanks," she flashed him a quick smile, moving towards the back of the store. She could practically feel his eyes on her ass as she walked back, causing her to internally groan and lock the door behind her as soon as she got in. She quickly did her business and redid the braid in her hair, figuring she'd never hear the end of it from Dean if she took too long. When she exited the bathroom she actually groaned at the sight before her. Sleazy cashier guy had waved at her as soon as she stepped out, holding up a magazine labeled 'Country Fashion' (one of her clients back in Nashville) and pointing at her picture on the front. She had just been modeling the season's new style for country bumpkins, a stupid cowboy hat and boots with short shorts and a plain white tank top under an open plaid shirt, drinking a Coke, but she still hated it. It was completely impractical for farming, and that was what they were trying to market it for. But she was paid for it, so she went along with it.

Now sleazy cashier was grinning as she made her way back to the front of the store, stopping her by holding out a Coke identical to the one she had in the picture. "I knew I recognized you from somewhere," his voice was completely obnoxious and obviously he was full of himself, "Here, on the house, babe. You're a long way from Nashville, aren't you?" When she didn't move to take the drink from him he moved around the counter, giving her an appraising look that made her roll her eyes.

"I don't make it a habit to take drinks from strange men," she informed him politely, moving to leave, but he caught her arm.

"C'mon, doll, how about you leave those two hunky Adonises out there and come see what a real man has to offer," his eyebrows were raised suggestively and in a way that he must of thought was alluring, but in reality it just made her wish she had her gun with her.

That was when the sleazy cashier guy's luck went down the drain. Dean came sauntering in, all smiles, until he saw the dude holding onto his newfound sister's arm. His expression turned dark almost immediately as he started stalking over to them.

Alex grimaced as she tugged herself out of his grip, turning to give the sleazy guy an apologetic smile. "Yeah, see, I hate to break it to you like this, but those two 'hunky Adonises' outside are my brothers. And you're repulsive."

And when the realization smacked across the guy's face, so did Dean's fist. The guy stumbled back into the counter with a groan, and Dean just shook his hand out and got them some food for breakfast before going back over to the cashier and giving him his most innocent smile while holding out his credit card.

Alex was just continuously shaking her head in shame as Dean's hijinks went down, and when Dean picked up the magazine from the counter that the cashier had previously and pointed at it and then her she just made a quick exit from the store, trying to rub the embarrassment out of her cheeks.

"Uh, Alex?" Sam asked when he saw her fleeing into the backseat of the Impala, "What's going on?"

"Dean," she groaned, shutting the door behind her as Dean came walking out of the store as if nothing had happened.

"Hey," Dean called to Sam as he approached, grinning like an idiot as he held out food. "Breakfast?"

"No thanks," Sam replied, still confused as to what was going on. That was when he was hit in the face by a magazine. "What the hell, dude?" he asked as he picked it up off the ground, then a grin slowly formed on his face. "No way," Sam looked in the backseat, where Alex had sunk even further down. "'Country Fashion'?"

"They paid me like $650 for that," she grumbled, "And don't look at me like that. I'm not the one who sucker punched the cashier."

"Wait, what?" Sam turned to look at Dean as he climbed into the drivers seat. "You sucker punched the cashier?"

Dean shrugged, starting the car up and grabbing a cassette out of the box in Sam's lap, "He was getting all touchy-feely with the princess back there."

"I had it under control," Alex spoke up, frowning at Dean, "You're the one who came in and lost the control."

"Whatever," Dean grinned again, popping in the new cassette.

"Dude, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection," Sam remarked, tossing the box back down into the floorboard.

"Why?" Dean asked incredulously, looking at Sam like he was insane.

"Well, for one, they're cassettes," Sam pointed out, looking back at Alex to see if she was on his side. She just shrugged. "And two. Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."

Dean shook his head, hitting play on the player in the dash of the Impala. "House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

"You know, Sammy is a chubby 12 year old," Sam pointed out, frowning, "It's Sam."

"Sorry!" Dean called out as he turned up 'Back in Black', "I can't hear you, the music's too loud!"

"You're worse than a friggin' 12 year old," Alex yelled at him from the backseat, causing Sam to nod in agreement as Dean sped off down the road.

* * *

A few minutes later they were driving past a sign that said 'Jericho 7' on it as Sam hung up the phone. "Alright, so no one matching Dad's description is at the hospital or the morgue. So that's something, at least."

Dean glanced at Alex in the rearview mirror and then at Sam before looking ahead again, seeing a lot of police cars at a bridge. "Hey, check it out," Dean nodded towards it, slowing the Impala to a stop not far from the bridge.

They all watched on for a while before Dean turned the Impala off, reaching over Sam and into the glove department to pull out a box full of fake ID cards. He pulled one out and grinned at Sam and Alex. "Let's go," he pushed his door open, forcing the other two to follow his lead as they went to the crime scene.

As they approached they could hear the police talking to each other. One of the men yelled down to two others in the river to ask if they found anything before going back to the car, where another man was investigating.

"No signs of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless. It's almost too clean," the guy in the car said, looking up at the other.

"So this kid, Troy," the first officer said, "He's dating your daughter, isn't he? How's Amy doing?"

"She's putting up missing posters downtown," he informed him, standing from the car just as Dean began to speak.

"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't ya?" Dean asked, walking around the car and looking pretentious as hell. He certainly was able to pull off the whole 'I belong here' vibe.

"And who are you?" The first deputy asked the new trio, frowning at them as Sam and Alex moved to look around at the other side of the car as Dean stayed behind and flashed his badge for the day at the policeman.

"Federal marshals," Dean flashed one of his signature grins at the man.

"Little young to be marshals, aren't you?" the officer asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

Dean just laughed at that and pocketed his badge, shaking his head, "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you."

"Is he always such an ass?" Alex whispered to Sam as Dean began to move towards the car, and Sam nodded in response.

"So, this victim, you knew him?" Sam asked as he and Alex moved nearer to Dean, who was taking his own turn looking at the car.

"Town like this, everyone knows everyone," the deputy responded, looking pretty grim as he thought about the lost boy.

"Any connection between the vics?" Alex piped up before Dean could ask, looking earnestly at the deputy. "Besides that they're all male?"

If the deputy thought it was odd that the two young guys were federal marshals he must have thought it was downright strange that this young woman was also one, but he didn't comment on it. "No. Not as far as we can tell."

"So what's the theory?" Sam asked as soon as the man was done talking, moving over to Dean, Alex trailing behind.

"Honestly? We don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?" the officer looked downright distraught as he looked to the three young people in front of him for an answer they couldn't give him.

"Well," Dean began, shaking his head, "That is exactly the kind of crap police work I'd expect out of you guys."

Sam immediately stomped on Dean's foot, causing Dean to jump and grimace, before saying, "Well, thank you for your time."

Alex, Sam, and Dean all quickly walked away from the crime scene, Dean's eyes dark until he slapped Sam on the back of the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" Sam held his head, looking down at Dean in shock.

"Why'd you have to step on my foot?" Dean snapped back, causing Alex to roll her eyes at the immaturity.

"Why do you have to talk to the police like that?" Sam rebuked, glaring down at him.

"Come on, they don't really know what's going on," Dean pointed out, looking to Alex for help that she wouldn't give, "We're all alone in this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we have to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves."

Sam and Alex both cleared their throats as soon as Dean finished his spiel, causing him to turn around and come face-to-face with a sheriff and two FBI agents.

"Can I help you three?" The sheriff asked, looking them over.

"No, sir," Alex spoke up, moving forward again. "We were just leaving."

Dean and Sam took the hint and followed her, Dean only pausing to greet the two FBI agents before moving on towards the Impala, the Sheriff's eyes following them the entire way.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later Dean, Sam, and Alex were sat in a diner with two teen girls, Amy and Rachel. Amy was the girlfriend of the most recent victim, and they were posing as his estranged aunt and uncles.

"I was on the phone with Troy," Amy began, obviously upset recalling it, "He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and… he never did."

Alex offered the girl a sad smile and a consoling pat on the hand as Sam asked, "He didn't say anything strange? Or out of the ordinary?"

Amy shook her head, "No. Not that I can remember."

Dean was leaned against the back of the seat as they talked, his arm up across the back. He took his arm down after they finished talking, leaning forward to give the girls a more serious look. "Heres the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything…"

Alex rolled her eyes at Dean's straight to the point attitude, watching the girls in front of them carefully. She was carefully perched on the edge of the booth seat beside Dean, since the ass wouldn't scoot over, and was already thankful that she wasn't as tall and awkward as Sam because of it.

Dean was watching the girls carefully as they looked at each other. "What is it?" he asked them, an eyebrow raising as he watched their silent conversation.

Rachel, Amy's friend, spoke up first, "It's just… I mean, with all these guys going missing… people talk."

Now much more interested in the conversation at hand, Alex, Dean, and Sam all voiced, "What do they talk about?" at nearly the same time, causing Amy and Rachel to look between them oddly before speaking up again.

"It's kind of this local legend," Rachel began, leaning forward in her seat a little and hushing her voice, as if it were taboo, "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago. Supposedly she's still out there," Rachel continued, feeling a bit braver as Sam and Alex both nodded her on, "She hitchhikes. And whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

"That's a very interesting legend," Alex spoke up when her brothers failed to, standing from the edge of the seat she was on. "But I'm sure it's nothing like that. It's probably just some creep kidnapping people. Ghosts aren't real, right, guys?" she asked Sam and Dean, giving them each pointed looks as they nodded and murmured some sort of an agreement. "Let's just all keep doing our best to find Troy," Alex finished as Dean and Sam scooted out of the bench. Amy stood and hugged Alex, which surprised her, because she wasn't much of one for touching strangers, but hugged her back regardless. It was pretty obvious the teen just needed some sort of physical contact.

Sam, Dean, and Alex said their farewells after that, leaving and walking towards the town library.

"So, she was pretty hot," Dean piped up after a few seconds of silence, grinning down at Alex, who was walking beside him. "Seemed to have a thing for you."

"Dean, shut up," Alex groaned, shaking her head at him. "She's, like, 16. I'm not a pedo."

"So, what? Age is all that's stopping you?" Dean asked, now more interested in the conversation than he was before. Sam tried to covertly peak around Dean to see Alex's answer.

"I'm pretty open to anything," Alex shrugged, glancing at the both of them. "What do you think models do in between photo shoots?"

Dean's eyes turned to her then, stopping in his tracks. His face was hopeful, full of childish glee, "Seriously?"

"No," Alex grinned, winking at him. "I just figured I'd get your hopes up and crush them."

Dean's lips twitched slightly as his face fell, his sudden good mood suddenly deflating. Sam was holding back a snicker as Dean stared at Alex, looking like a kid who was just told Santa wasn't real. "You… you lied to me."

"More like I set you up for a trap and you walked right into it," she clarified, still grinning as she watched him. Her eyes flicked downwards as she noticed a tiny amount of movement in his chest and then back at his face, noticing the sudden gleam in his eyes. "Uh… Dean?"

"You should probably start running," Sam said quickly, now laughing as Alex began walking backwards with Dean stalking after her.

"You know what this calls for?" Dean asked her, still following her. "This calls for revenge," he lunged at her, causing her to let out a quiet yelp before ducking out of his reach and running.

Sam was left no choice but to run after Dean and Alex as they ran off down the sidewalk, laughing under his breath as he did. If anyone else saw them they'd think they had been around each other their entire lives, not one day. But it just worked, somehow. They all fit in together like pieces of a puzzle, even if two of them never knew a third one was missing. It was strange, but Sam was okay with it. Because, for once in his life, strange didn't actually mean something bad.

The chase ended with Alex practically diving into the library doors, completely thankful that she was smaller and faster than Dean was. If it had been Sam chasing her she may have worried because of his extremely long legs. She straightened from her hunched over position, breathing deeply and offering her best reassuring smile to the librarian who was looking at her questioningly as her brothers soon burst in behind her.

"This isn't over," Dean promised her, also breathing heavily, looking around the library. "C'mon, there are some computers over there."

While Dean made his way to the computers Sam and Alex locked eyes, causing them to both laugh. Dean may have been strong, but he'd never beat one of them in a foot race. "C'mon," Sam motioned after Dean, "We'd better get over there before he breaks it."

"You go ahead," Alex nodded towards Dean's direction, her breath evening out. "I'm going to the bathroom. Gonna fix my hair and do lady things that Dean wouldn't understand."

Sam nodded and took off after Dean, leaving Alex to wander to the bathroom on her own. When she finally made it to the bathroom with the aid of a friendly book reader, Alex took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. She looked happier than she had felt in years. It was astounding that she and her brothers just molded in together so quickly. It was gonna suck when she had to go back to Nashville, but she'd definitely try to keep in touch. She hummed a little of Guns n' Roses 'Sweet Child of Mine' while she undid her braid, running her fingers through the knotted hair until it untangled. Satisfied that it was the best she could get with what she had she began pulling it up again, this time into a low ponytail instead of a braid like she normally did. It wasn't too much of a change, but it was enough to make her feel like she actually put some effort into making herself presentable.

She began to leave the bathroom when the lights began to flicker, causing her to pause and cautiously turn around. She exhaled in relief when she saw nothing there, about to turn back around and leave, when she noticed a woman flicker into existence in front of the same mirror Alex had been in front of. Alex ground her teeth together as she felt for the door handle behind her, never taking her eyes off of the ghostly woman in a white dress. As she found it and tried to pull, the lock suddenly slid closed, causing Alex to grimace at the sound.

"I can never go home," the Woman droned out at her, turning to give Alex a forlorn look, as if she wanted Alex to somehow relate. "I can never go home…"

When a sudden pounding noise reverberated through the bathroom as someone knocked on the door obnoxiously loud the Woman disappeared, the door unlocking as she did. The second Alex heard the door unlock she pulled it open and bolted from the bathroom, running squarely into the chest of her older brother.

"Alex? What the hell?" Dean asked, catching her and himself before they both fell. "You okay?"

"Those girls said that the woman was killed near Centennial. What the hell kind of ghost has a big enough range to be here?" Alex asked him quickly, glancing back at the bathroom. "She was here, Dean. Locked me in the bathroom with her. Friggin' last time I ever go anywhere without my purse, I've got emergency salt in it."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down," Dean pulled her further from the bathroom and to the front doors of the library, where Sam was waiting. "She was here? You sure? Because we just found the newspaper article on it. She killed herself at that bridge where the kid disappeared. There's no way a ghost could come out this far."

"That's exactly what I just said," Alex snapped at him, glaring up at him and pulling herself out of his arms. "It seriously doesn't make sense. All she did was talk to me and lock me in when I tried to leave. Just her normal 'I can never go home' spiel."

"Guys? What's going on?" Sam asked, having been watching them walk over to him with worried eyes.

"Apparently Alex and our spirit had a little heart-to-heart in the bathroom," Dean spoke up first, ushering both Sam and Alex out the doors.

"What, really? Are you okay?" Sam was immediately by Alex's side, glancing over her to make sure she wasn't hurt. "What was the spirit doing all the way here if she died at that bridge?"

"No idea," Alex replied, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat. "That's a huge range for a spirit. All five miles on that road? And then to here? Something isn't right. Did you guys find anything?"

"Well, apparently she killed herself at that bridge where Troy disappeared," Sam explained, the three of them now walking towards the Impala. "We figured we might as well go have a look."

Alex nodded her agreement as they all piled into the Impala, glancing towards the now setting sun while she inched over to the middle of the backseat. "We have friggin' crazy lives," she said to neither of them in particular, and both of them agreed.

Fifteen minutes later, after night had settled in, they pulled up to the bridge they were at earlier that day, rolling to a stop. Dean cut the lights off, then the engine, as they all piled out and began walking along the bridge.

"So this is where Constance took the swan dive," Dean gave the place a once over, walking ahead of Alex and Sam a little.

"So you think Dad would've been here?" Sam asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets as they walked along the bridge.

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him," Dean pointed out, walking along the bridge until they had gone over halfway across it.

"Okay, so now what?" Sam questioned, looking at Dean expectantly.

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while," Dean shrugged, not seeing it as a big deal.

Sam stopped walking, frowning at Dean. "Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back Monday-"

Dean stopped and turned around, glaring at Sam as Alex casually walked away from the two. It was obvious to her that whatever it was between them needed to be worked out on their own. So Alex kept walking forward along the bridge, her boots clicking a little as she went and the wind blowing loose some strands of dark hair around her face. She could still hear pretty much everything they were saying to each other, but tried her best to seem like she didn't. She knew the conversation was pretty heated, but she really felt out of place and probably couldn't help it even if she tried. So she walked along the bridge until she heard Dean's voice raise up and turned in time to see him slam Sam into the railing of the bridge. "Dean! What the hell," she called towards them, her hands finding their way to her hips as she stared incredulously at them.

Dean let go of Sam and looked at Alex, about to tell her to mind her own business, when he saw Constance standing on the edge of the railing beside of Alex. "Sam," Dean said urgently, motioning towards Alex, trying not to let Alex know what was going on and ultimately failing.

Alex took a deep breath as she slowly turned around, coming face to face with Constance as she turned to look at her, Sam, and Dean. Alex was very carefully reaching into the bag hanging at her left hip when Constance suddenly tipped herself over the edge of the bridge, causing all three of the Winchesters to run over and look down at the water below. "What the hell?" Alex asked, looking up at Dean and Sam beside of her.

"Where'd she go?" Dean asked, looking around frantically as if he'd see her somewhere.

"I dunno," Sam responded, properly miffed as he stood up off of the railing he was leaning on. He was about to say something else when the sound of the Impala starting up cut him off.

"What the-" Dean mumbled, turning around to stare at his car in shock as the headlights flicked on.

"Who's driving your car?" Sam asked him, worry edging his voice, glancing over as Dean took the keys out of his pocket and dangled them on his finger.

"You've gotta be kidding me…" Alex groaned, looking from the keys to the Impala, which was starting to move towards them.

They all stood for a moment, slowly backing up like deer caught in headlights, until the car began speeding up, pushing them all into motion.

"Go!" Sam yelled at Dean and Alex as they all took off down the bridge, desperately trying to get away from the now haunted Impala that was hauling ass after them.

They all ran as fast as they could, Sam faster than Alex and Alex faster than Dean, but it was no use. The car was definitely faster than any of them. In the end the only way for them to avoid it was to each jump off the bridge. Sam went over first, clinging to a metal banner as he swung over; Alex was the next to jump over, and quickly grabbed hold of the arm Sam had stretched out to catch her with, feeling him tug her closer to him and the beam he was clinging to; Dean wasn't as lucky as he went soaring over, plopping down into the muddy waters below.

The Impala came to a screeching stop just inches away from the railing of the bridge above them.

Sam pushed Alex up towards the top of the bridge so she could pull herself over before looking down at the water below, looking for Dean. "Dean? Dean!" He called out, scanning the perimeter as Dean crawled out of the water. "Hey! Are you all right?"

Dean held up an A-OK sign as he rolled onto his back, thoroughly covered in the ick of the river. "I'm super," he called back, watching as Alex helped Sam pull himself up onto the bridge. Sam and Alex laughed at Dean as they looked down at him, and Dean copped up a grin to shoot back at them.

A few minutes later Dean had dredged himself up from the bottom of the bridge, his car hood open as he checked it out.

"She okay?" Alex asked, walking up to peer in beside of him.

"Yeah," Dean affirmed, slamming the hood down into place. "Whatever she did to it, it seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!"

Alex laughed under her breath and shook her head as Sam walked up and leaned against the front of the Impala with them. "Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So where's the job go from here, genius?" he asked Dean, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow.

Dean didn't respond and instead threw his arms in the air, causing some of the muck stuck on him to fling off. Alex quickly jumped away from it, her nose scrunched up as she watched on in distaste.

Sam sniffed the air a little before giving Dean a similar look to Alex's, "Dude, you smell like a toilet."

Dean's head dropped to look at himself, groaning as they all moved to pile into the Impala. Windows down.

* * *

Another fifteen minutes and they were back in town, pulling up to a motel. Alex and Sam piled out of the car as soon as it slowed down, glad to be away from the stink that was Dean Winchester, and Dean scoffed at them as he yanked the keys from the ignition and followed them towards the entrance.

"C'mon, Dean, seriously, you reak," Alex grinned, taking a step back from him as he approached. "Don't take it personally. It's not your fault you didn't think to grab the bridge before you went over."

Dean stopped where he was walking and stared down at her silently, causing Sam to raise his eyebrow as he watched on. Before Alex knew what was happening Dean had engulfed her in his arms, pulling her off the ground and smearing the filth of the river all over her before putting her back down. He let out a relieved sigh as he grinned down at her and glanced at Sam. "I feel much better now. Thanks for the mood booster, sis."

"I..-" Alex stuttered, looking down at her now disgusting shirt, thankful her coat had been opened and mostly spared from the desecration. "I…- You…-"

"O-kay," Dean nodded sarcastically, pushing her towards where Sam was holding the door open and snickering. "You take your time there with that melted brain while me and Sammy get us a room, princess."

Alex's face was still in mild shock as she stood off behind them when Sam and Dean approached the older man at the counter. She had always hated getting filth on her, and especially on her clothes. Dean did not understand what it meant to be an attractive woman.

Dean handed the motel clerk his credit card as he glanced back at Alex, still grinning in triumph, "One room, please. Three singles if you can."

The clerk held the credit card to look at it a little, reading the name on it before looking back up at Sam and Dean. "You guys having a reunion or something?"

Sam was the first to hop to the opportunity, leaning forward slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I had another guy," the clerk started, looking from Sam to Dean to Alex, who was now paying attention, "Burt Aframian. He came and bought a room for the whole month."

Dean and Sam glanced at each other momentarily before thanking the clerk, who had swiped the card and gave Dean some keys to another room.

Instead of going to the room they had just bought, they looked around until they found a room with a 'do not disturb' tag hanging off of it, assuming it was the room their Dad had used when he was knelt down to pick the lock while Dean and Alex stood beside of him, each of them now stinking. Alex still wouldn't look at Dean for what he had done, which caused Dean to grin again every time he glanced her way. When Sam got the door open and began to move inside Alex went to follow, but was promptly tripped by Dean and instead fell into Sam as he walked with his back to her, causing them both to flail momentarily before turning to glare at Dean.

"What the hell, dude," Sam muttered, shaking his head at Dean as he snickered wildly.

"You're ridiculous," Alex told him, her hands on her hips as she glared up at him. "I feel like I'm being hazed into some exclusive club."

"Oh, princess, you're behind on your teasings," Dean grinned, ruffling her hair and causing her to groan and swipe at his hands. "By about twenty-three years, actually. I'm just making up for lost time."

"Oh, God," Alex took a good two steps away from Dean as they entered the motel room, each of them looking over every inch of the place. It was definitely their Dad's place. It was littered in his research on the case, and there was a salt line in front of the door that each of them stepped over.

Dean moved over to turn on a lamp and look at a cheeseburger as Sam knelt to play with the salt. Alex moved on to look at the papers on the walls.

"I don't think he's been here for at least a couple of days," Dean spoke up when no one else did, after sniffing the burger and recoiling from its rotting smell.

"You had to smell the burger to figure that out?" Alex quipped, grinning over her shoulder at Dean who was eyeing her like he was thinking about what to do to her next after what she said.

"Salt, cats-eye shells," Sam spoke up, causing Dean and Alex to break their staring match to look at him, "He was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in."

"Our spooky spirit, maybe?" Alex asked, walking over to the other side of Sam, hopeful to use him as a shield in case Dean decided to attack her again with his 'teasings'. "If she could get to the library she could definitely get here."

"True," Sam nodded, glancing from her to Dean, who was looking at some papers on the wall, shaking his head at how they were acting. "What do you have there?"

"Centennial Highway victims," Dean spoke up, glancing back at them, trying to suppress a grin when he saw Alex staying on the other side of Sam. "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

Sam had moved across the room to look at some more papers, leaving Alex to fend for herself as he flicked on a lamp. "Hey, I think Dad figured it out."

Dean turned away from Alex, who was relieved Sam had said something so quickly, "What do you mean?"

"He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white," Sam turned to look at Dean.

Dean grinned and shook his head at the victims. "You sly dogs," he said, turning back to Sam after looking over the article again, "All right, so we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it."

"She could have another weakness," Alex pointed out, causing Sam to nod in agreement.

"Well, Dad would want to make sure. He'd dig her up. Does it say we're she's buried?" Dean asked, watching Sam as he looked over the article again.

"No. Not that I can tell," Sam said, but tapped on the picture of the husband, "If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask the husband. If he's still alive."

"All right," Dean nodded, looking away from another picture of a woman in white spirit, "Why don't you see if you can find an address? I'm gonna get cleaned up."

"Uh, no way," Alex spoke up, frowning at him. "I'm going to get cleaned up first. You can continue to wallow in your own filth for a while."

Dean turned to her, an eyebrow quirked as he smirked down at her. "Oh yeah? I'm the oldest. What I say goes."

"And all I have to do is scream bloody murder to get every person in the area to come surging in at once," Alex winked, grinning as she saw Dean's face deflate.

"You wouldn't," he said slowly, almost in a warning, as Sam watched on again. It was almost better than television.

"How do you know?" she asked him, which caused him to groan and throw his hands up.

"Whatever. Go, do your girly shit," he grumbled, causing her to jump a little for her success as she turned and ran out to get her bag and then back to the bathroom.

Sam grinned at Dean as he plopped onto the bed in the room, causing Dean to roll his eyes. "You gave in pretty easy back there," Sam commented, standing off to the side of the room.

"Whatever," Dean mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes.

A little later, after Sam and Dean had a chick-flick moment when Alex was in the shower, Alex and Sam sat by themselves out in the room while Dean took his turn in the bathroom. Sam was idly playing with his phone and a voicemail on it while Alex braided her damp hair, not having the time to dry it like she would've wanted. It didn't take too long before Dean reemerged from his quick shower.

"Hey, guys, I'm starving," he told them, shrugging on his jacket. "I'm gonna go grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You want anything?"

"No," Sam told him, glancing from his phone to Dean.

"Aframian's buyin'," Dean told him, eyebrows raising as Sam shook his head again. "What about you, princess?"

"I'll come with," she told him, standing up after lacing her left boot up over her now black skinny jeans. Her t-shirt was a sapphire color, and over that she wore her same jacket from before. To be honest, she was starving. She hadn't actually ate since that salad, and the candy bar Dean had gotten her could only tide her over for so long.

"Whatever," Dean rolled his eyes, moving to the door and opening it, motioning for her to go out first. "We'll be back in a few," he told Sam, who said a little 'mhm' before Dean shut the door. Dean and Alex got halfway through the lot before they both noticed the police car in the lot, glanced at where the motel clerk was talking to the two deputies from before, and turned to face each other.

"Well, there's an annoying sight," Alex said as Dean pulled out his phone and quickly turned to face away from the police, tugging Alex around to the other side of him.

When Dean's phone connected to Sam the officers were approaching them. "Dude, five-oh, take off," he told Sam quickly.

Sam stood up in the room and moved to the window. "What about you guys?"

"Uh, they kinda spotted us. Go find Dad," Dean told him before shutting his phone, pocketing it as he turned to face the officers with a grin. "Problem, officers?"

The African American deputy spoke first, looking from where Alex was slightly behind Dean to Dean himself. "Where's your other partner?"

"Partner? What other partner?" Alex asked, almost too innocently, causing Dean's grin to grow even wider. Deputy Jaffe glanced behind him towards the motel room they had come from, motioning for the other guy to go check it out.

"So, fake US marshalls. Fake credit cards. You guys got anything that's real?" the officer asked, looking between them with a disapproving face.

"My boobs," they both replied automatically as officer Hein came back. Hein took Dean and Jaffe took Alex as they slammed them onto the hood of the car, cuffing them as Dean and Alex grinned at each other.

"You have the right to remain silent-" Jaffe began reading their Miranda Rights, which, to be honest, Dean and Alex practically had those memorized by this point in their lives.


	4. Chapter 4: S01E01 Pilot part 3

_Hey all! So I'm pretty nervous about the end of this chapter. I hope it's enjoyable and mysterious. And maybe it's done in an OK manner. I'm not honestly sure if there was much more I could do for it at that point. But expect some answers in the next chapter! Definitely some more light will be shed onto the whole situation. It's our first one with Alex on her own. Please review if you don't mind. I really need an idea of whether or not my direction is okay, or if I should maybe ixnay the whole thing. Thanks!_

* * *

Half an hour or so later Dean and Alex were seated in a plain room with a table and chairs, a one-way glass mirror, and a barred window. They hadn't said much to each other, knowing they were being listened in on, and instead opted for a very mature game of thumb wrestling. Dean kept trying to brute force his way to victory and Alex's smaller thumb was much more nimble and able to avoid his. They were locked in a heated match when the Sheriff came in, carrying a box that he plopped on the table opposite of them.

Dean and Alex pulled away from each other to look at Sheriff Pierce, each of them looking as smug as possible.

"So, you wanna tell us your real names?" Sheriff Pierce asked them, starting to dig through the box.

"I told you, it's Nugent. Ted Nugent," Dean responded with a grin, leaning back in his chair.

"And I'm Pat. Pat Benatar," Alex added in, passing Dean a glance as he snickered.

"I'm not sure you kids realize just how much trouble you're in here," the Sheriff opted to say instead of what he was thinking, giving them each an appraising look.

"We talkin' misdemeanor kind of trouble or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble?" Dean asked with another grin.

"You got the faces of ten missing people taped to your wall," Pierce told them, causing Dean and Alex to both look away from him. "Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. Kids, you are officially suspects."

"That makes sense," Alex scoffed, shaking her head in exasperation at the old guy.

"Yeah," Dean added, rolling his eyes. "Total sense. Because when the first one went missing in '82 I was I was three."

"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me. Dean. This his?" the Sheriff eyed them as he tossed down their Dad's journal on the table in front of them. Both Alex and Dean watched it fall, each of them suddenly realizing how serious the situation with their Dad was. "I thought that might be your name. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out-I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy," Dean leaned forward to see the journal better as the Sheriff leafed through its pages, "But I found this, too."

The Sheriff had stopped on a page about three quarters of the way through the journal, where Dean's name and the numbers 35-111 were written and circled, nothing else on the page. "Now, you're staying right here 'til you tell me what the hell that means."

Dean stared at the page for several seconds before glancing at Alex, who had looked up from the page to him, and finally sat back in his seat to stare at the Sheriff. "It's my high school locker combo," Dean finally settled on, smiling at the Sheriff with his trademark sarcastic grin.

"Nice try. Try again," the Sheriff told him, pulling out the chair opposite of them and plopping into it.

"He's right, Dean. We should tell the truth. It's actually my high school locker combo," Alex spoke up beside him, now grinning to match Dean.

"All right," Sheriff Pierce said with a groan, leaning back in his seat. "I've got all day for this. Now I know your brother's name," he gave a pointed look at Alex, "Why don't you go ahead and tell me yours, cupcake?"

"Vanilla," she responded, causing Dean to snicker. If there was anything they were both good at, apparently, it was avoiding answers and overall being a pain to the authorities. "I prefer vanilla cupcakes to chocolate."

"You two look too much alike to not be related," Sheriff Pierce continued, giving them each a lengthy look. "So what is it? A family ring? You guys all go out and kidnap innocent men for your kicks?"

"Actually, I prefer hiking to kidnapping," Alex spoke up first, smiling sweetly at the Sheriff. "The less I have to deal with idiots the better."

"O-kay," the Sheriff groaned, rubbing his face, "We'll go back to where we were before. What do those numbers mean?"

"I don't know how many times I gotta tell you," Dean quipped with a grin, "It's my high school locker combo."

"We gonna do this all night long?" Sheriff Pierce asked them, looking between them again and reconsidering his decision to even try interrogating them.

Before Alex could speak up again a deputy leaned into the room. "We just got a 911. Shots fired over at Whiteford Road."

"Either of you have to go to the bathroom?" the Sheriff asked them as he stood, coming around the tale to them.

"No," Dean and Alex both responded, watching the man suspiciously.

"Good," Sheriff Pierce said with a grunt, taking out two sets of handcuffs and tethering them each to their chairs.

Dean and Alex watched as he exited the room before looking at each other again, both of them breaking out into grins.

"Been in a situation like this often?" Dean asked her, reaching forward to the journal to take a paper clip off the edge of a page.

"A few times, yeah. You too?" Alex casually replied, watching as he busied himself picking at the lock on his cuffs.

"A few," he repeated her, grinning as his cuff came loose and holding his hand up to her in victory. "Hold still," Dean told her, leaning over to give her cuff the same treatment.

When she was freed she stood up, moving with Dean to stand near the door but out of sight of the window. "So, for not knowing each other for all of our lives, we're pretty similar," Alex pointed out, pressing against the wall when Dean motioned for them to get back.

"I think you're just copying me," Dean grinned at her, peeking back around the window to see if the Sheriff and deputies were gone. "I don't blame you. I'm awesome."

"You should look into getting married to yourself sometime," Alex told him, her eyes rolling. "I'm not copying you. We were just raised similarly."

"Sammy was raised like us," Dean pointed out, carefully opening the door and peering out. "And he's a nerd."

"For your information, I also like to read books without pictures and learn new things," Alex shook her head, watching as Dean nabbed their Dad's journal and went towards a fire escape. "This has got to be the worst escape I've ever been a part of."

"Hey, you wanna walk out the front door? Be my guest." Dean levered the window open, moving out of it and onto the ladder outside of it, leaving Alex no choice but to follow.

As soon as they cleared a few blocks away from the police station Dean stopped at a phone booth, squeezing inside to phone Sam while Alex stood outside. Alex wasn't really paying attention as she picked at her nails, leaning up against the side of the booth as Dean spoke to Sam about what they had found out about their Dad. At this point she had a relatively good feeling that she'd not be sticking around if they had to go somewhere else to look for their Dad. She originally had wanted to stick it out until the end, if he wasn't around here anymore, it was unlikely he was going to turn up anytime soon. She only had two months to herself, anyway. And Sam wasn't sticking around any longer than Monday.

She looked up from her fingernails only to see a man standing down the street from she and Dean, obviously staring at them both. She tensed up at that, moving to reach behind her to grab Dean's attention, but found she couldn't move as the man shook his head. He raised his fingers to his lips, mockingly telling her not to say anything even though she couldn't open her mouth if she wanted to, and she glared at him in response. The man was tall, probably as tall as Sam, and had rich blonde hair. She couldn't quite make out his eye color from so far away, but it was definitely a light color. He was extremely attractive: muscular, chiseled, everything a girl could want and more. Alex would've frowned if she could move her lips as the man winked at her, his eyes suddenly rolling back and becoming a solid, deep hue of blue, before he disappeared in front of her as soon as she heard Dean start shouting for Sam over the phone.

Alex turned to tell Dean what had happened with the man, presumed demon, as soon as she could move again, but was instead dragged along with Dean as he ran out of the phone booth. "What's going on?" she asked him, moving to running to keep up with him. "Is Sam okay?"

"I dunno," Dean responded quickly, looking around for a car they could maybe steal. If not, they were running the entire way to that ghost bitch's house. "We've gotta get to where Constance is buried."

Alex only nodded her consent as they continued down the street, watching as Dean busted out the window in an old car and hopped in to hotwire, unlocking the doors for her to get in on the other side. She was now both worried about Sam and the demon she had seen. It hadn't tried to hurt her… just kept her still and silent while it made itself known. Definitely not the M.O. of a typical demon. And its eyes weren't black, they were blue. But the fact that the entire eye changed to be a whole color was what cemented the fact that it had to have been a demon for her.

Dean was being as silent as Alex as he sped along the road, both of them obviously in their own thoughts. Dean's thoughts were focused more solely than Alex's: Sam was in trouble and he had to help him.

It wasn't long until they had screeched to a stop and were running up a driveway to where they saw the Impala parked, each of them speeding up as they heard Sam's screaming. When they got to the car and were able to look in they saw Sam, his hoodie and shirt apart, with the woman in white on top of him and her hand in his chest. Dean didn't even hesitate to pull out his pistol and start firing at her, startling her enough to give Sam some breathing room. She disappeared and reappeared twice, Dean firing at her the whole time, while Sam managed to lean forward enough to turn the keys in the ignition and put the car into drive.

"I'm taking you home," Sam floored it, the Impala speeding up the steps of the porch and through the front wall.

"Sam!" Alex called after him, rushing in with Dean lagging behind as he watched it happen. "Sam! You okay?" she rushed around to the passenger side door, Dean behind her, each of them leaning in the window to try and see if he was hurt.

"I think so…" Sam groaned, shaking his head a little before looking at them, his two older siblings looked relieved.

"Can you move?" Dean asked him, Alex moving out of the way so Dean could take over. There was no way she could help pull Sam out if he couldn't.

Apparently it wasn't just her and Dean who could be reckless Alex decided, moving to the rear of the car as Dean helped tug Sam out of the car.

"Uh, guys," Alex called out as she turned and saw Constance picking up a framed picture. When Sam and Dean turned around Constance glared at them, throwing the frame down and forcing a bureau to slide across the floor and crush the two boys against the Impala. Alex felt a slight tug on herself before she was flying into the wall next to the stairs, grunting with the impact.

Sam and Dean were struggling against the bureau holding them in place as Constance approached Alex until the lights started to flicker. Constance stopped and suddenly looked terrified, following a trail of water up the stairs to where two new spirits were. Alex watched them nervously, slowly scooting back from the stairs and away from Constance and the child-sized ghosts.

"You've come home to us, Mommy," the children said in unison. Constance suddenly looked panicked as she took a step back, directly into the arms of her children as they appeared behind her and hugged her tightly.

Alex covered her head with her arms, peering around to watch as the spirits flickered with energy before suddenly melting into a puddle of water onto the ground where they were. "Kids have got to be the creepiest spirits," she mumbled as she looked at Sam and Dean as they lugged the bureau off of them.

"You okay, princess?" Dean called over to her, wiping his hands off on his jeans.

"Yeah, I'm good," she replied, pulling herself up and moving over to them. They all stood for a moment, staring at the puddle, each of them now dirty again, before Dean spoke up.

"So this is where she buried her children," he pointed out, looking to Sam and then Alex.

"That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them," Sam informed them both, causing Alex to shake her head.

"You found her weak spot. Nice going, champ," she grinned at him, walking around to the other side of the car to peer in the backseat and check on her luggage.

Dean gave Sam a nice slap on his chest, where he was still lightly bleeding from Constance's fingers, causing him to grunt and laugh. "What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"Hey. Saved your ass," Dean pointed out, grinning at him as he crouched to look over the Impala. "And I'll tell you another thing," he sounded sarcastically menacing, "If you screwed up my car? I'll kill you."

"And I'll have to save you when he tries," Alex added in, leaned against the hood of the car as she grinned at them both.

Sam laughed and shook his head at them both, moving to sit in the car. "Whatever, freaks."

* * *

Half an hour later they were tearing down the highway again, Sam looking at a map with their Dad's journal open on their lap to the page with Dean's name and 35-111. "Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado," he flicked off his flashlight, throwing it in the floorboard as he turned slightly to see both Dean and Alex.

"Sounds charming. How far?" Dean asked him, still annoyed his right headlight was out because of Sam's antics.

"About six hundred miles," Sam replied, glancing back at Alex. They both had an idea of where this was headed.

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning," Dean pointed out, masking his hopefulness with bravado as he put more force into the acceleration.

"Dean, I, um…" Sam began, hesitating as he glanced at Alex who nodded at him for encouragement.

"You're not going," Dean finished for him, scorn in his voice.

"The interview's in like, ten hours. I've gotta be there," Sam's resolve to do this was clear. There was no way he would back down.

"Yeah. Yeah, whatever," Dean nodded, obviously disappointed, "I'll take you home."

Sam nodded in response, turning his attention to the road outside of his window. And for the next two hours they spent the car in an awkward and tense silence, caused by the riff between the boys.

When they finally made it back to Stanford it was a relief for Alex, who had resorted to toying on her phone for the last half hour to avoid the tension in the car. They had been doing so well together up until the point that Sam decided he was really going to go for the lawyer thing. She was happy for him, of course, but couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't going to get to be a lawyer.

Sam climbed out of the car and leaned over into the window, looking at both Alex and Dean. "Call me if you find him?" Dean nodded in response, so Sam continued, "And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?"

"Yeah, all right," Dean grumbled. Sam patted the top of the car twice before turning and walking off. Dean hesitated before leaning over to the window on the passenger side, calling back out to him. "Sam?" when Sam stopped and turned to look at him he continued, "You know, we made a hell of a team back there."

"Yeah," Sam called back, nodding. Alex glanced from Sam to Dean awkwardly, wondering if she should say something when Dean pulled off. Sam watched them go for a moment before sighing and turning to go inside.

"So, that was awkward," Alex nearly yelled over the loud music in the car, leaning forward onto the back of the front seat. Dean hadn't given her time to move up to the passenger. "You should just go ahead and tell him you miss him and love him and get it over with."

Dean scoffed, turning the volume down and giving her an annoyed look out of the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, no. No chick flick moments. And I don't miss him. He's got his own thing going on."

Alex was about to respond, to chastise him for being dense and stubborn, when her phone rang. "This isn't over," she warned him, reaching into her pocket and reading the caller ID. It was one of the girls she worked with in Nashville, Claire. "Claire?" Alex asked as she flipped it open, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"Hey!" Claire screamed over the receiver, causing Alex to wince slightly and Dean to raise an eyebrow at her, obviously having heard it. "You won't believe it! We got a ton of orders for the CMAs! I know you're on vacation or whatever, but I could really use your help. You know, if you're available. Please say you're available."

Alex closed her eyes and exhaled harshly through her nose, biting the inside of her cheek. When she opened her eyes again she was looking into the rearview mirror, locking with Dean's green orbs. It was obvious Dean could still hear everything Claire was saying. She wasn't exactly a quiet person on the phone. Alex continued to stare at Dean as she thought about what Claire was saying. They usually got an order or two for the CMAs (Country Music Awards), but the way she was talking it was as if they had five or six this year. They would definitely need her help… but so did Dean. But he was perfectly able of watching out for himself. "Yeah," she finally spoke into the phone again, practically feeling relief roll through the phone from Claire. "I can be there in like, two days. Okay?"

"Perfect! Thanks so much!" Claire was obviously hyper off of the adrenaline of their new order, so Alex just hung the phone up to avoid having to be in a long conversation.

Dean had slowed the car to a stop, pulling over on the side of the road. He turned around to stare at her silently, and Alex grimaced slightly in response. "I'm sorry," she began, frowning as Dean shook his head, "I can't just leave them alone for something this big. I've gotta go. But you have my cell number now. And if you need anything you can call me. I'll drop whatever I've got going on to help. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Dean sighed, looking defeated. First his Dad, then his brother, now his sister… It didn't matter to him that he barely knew her. He was being abandoned left and right. It hurt. But he'd never let anyone know that. "Whatever. You need a lift?"

"To a bus station, yeah, if you don't mind," Alex smiled finally, relieved that Dean seemed to be taking it so well. Considering she was practically a stranger to him it didn't seem so odd, but she really didn't want him to think she was just running off the first chance she got.

Less than eight minutes after they had dropped Sam off Alex was climbing up into a bus, giving Dean a final wave. They hadn't hugged or really said anything since she told him she had to leave, but that was just Dean's style, she figured. He didn't like 'chick flick moments', as he put it. So she left him alone about it. Besides, he was just going to Colorado to find their Dad. There was no reason for her to feel so bad about it. What's the worse that could happen while she was gone?

* * *

So when Dean called her a half hour later to tell her about what had happened to Sam and his girlfriend, she was heartbroken. Dean insisted that Sam was fine, but she had a feeling he was the exact opposite of that. At least the boys had each other again, though. Sam was going with Dean to Colorado. After giving Dean her strictest, fakest voice and ordering him to call her every day, and to tell Sam to do so as well, they ended their call. She leaned her head against the cool pane of the glass and shut her eyes, hoping the best for the boys, because for whatever reason some yellow-eyed demon was ruining their lives systematically.

She had barely begun to think about the mysterious blue-eyed demon she had seen in Jericho, which she had accidentally forgotten to tell Dean about and swore to when they spoke next, when she fell asleep. And the next morning, when she awoke, she was still in the same bus as before. Except someone was sitting beside of her.

Alex sat up stiffly, looking at the man who was now smiling at her. She didn't recognize him from when she first got on the bus, so he must've gotten on sometime when she was asleep. "Can I help you?" she asked when he didn't speak up, carefully sliding her hand into her bag, which was wedged between her leg and the side of the bus. Her fingers barely grazed the cool metal of her pistol before she couldn't move them anymore, causing a slight panic to well up in her chest.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked her, his hazel eyes twinkling as he continued to smile at her. "I certainly hope so. You were out for two days. Don't worry," the tone of his voice was menacingly gentle as he lightly brushed his fingertips across her jaw line, his smile growing into a grin as she tensed but was unable to pull away. His hand moved away from her face to grab her left wrist, pulling it up to his face as he gently laid a kiss on the inside of it, his black hair staying slicked back on his head as he did. "That happens to everyone I run across. They tend to… overindulge. It just happened that you needed to indulge in sleep."

Alex was frowning, since she found that was the most she could move any part of her without him grabbing her like he had with her arm. His eyes rolled back into his head and suddenly his eyes were a single color, a deep emerald, which made Alex try fighting against the hold his psychic abilities had on her even more. First the blue eyed demon and now this green eyed one? And her brothers issue with a yellow eyed one? Alex had no idea what was going on.

"I'm sure you're wondering who I am," he teased her, still holding her wrist near his face as he watched her tense face as she fought against him. "But I assure you that isn't necessary. I'm here to give you a gift."

If Alex could've talked she would have definitely told him to take his gift and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. She didn't make deals with demons or take gifts from them.

"Oh, please," he spoke up, grinning as he glanced from her eyes to her wrist. "You'll love my gift. I'm sure of it. And there are no strings attached. It's just a little insurance on my part. You see, I have a few enemies who are currently endeavoring to kill me. And my gift to you will aid me _and_ you. We both win."

Before Alex could form another thought he pressed his lips back to the inside of her left wrist, causing an excruciating pain to emanate from where he touched through her entire body. If she could open her mouth she was sure she'd be screaming bloody murder. But as quickly as he had kissed her he was done, giving her a final parting wink before he disappeared.

She hugged her wrist to her chest as she let out a low groan, closing her eyes tightly and pressing her head tightly against the back of her seat. That was when she smelled something… wrong. Something terrible. And heard buzzing. Her eyes snapped open as she quickly stood, gagging slightly as she saw the mutilated corpses of all of the other passengers on the bus. There were flies everywhere, and the bodies had begun to bloat. They had to have been dead for at least eighteen hours at this point.

Alex tugged her bag over her shoulder as she carefully maneuvered her way around corpses, blood, and… parts of corpses. Her wrist was still held tightly to her chest as she practically dove out of the open door, gasping in breaths of fresh air greedily. "What. The. Hell," she spoke out loud, stumbling forward to turn and look at the bus. When it suddenly caught fire she took several steps back, swallowing a few times as she turned to try and figure out where she was. On the horizon she could see several buildings peaking over, and instantly she recognized the skyline of Nashville.

She turned back to look at the bus a final time before deciding there was no way she could retrieve her suitcase from the flames, and the smell of decay and burning flesh was too strong for her to want to stay. So she started walking towards the city, her wrist still tucked to her chest. It felt like it was the thing on fire, not the bus, and she couldn't bring herself to pull it away and risk it hurting even more. She had to grit her teeth and keep moving towards Nashville. If she could make it home she could protect herself. She could salt the windows and doors, and then take the time to find out what the hell that green-eyed bastard had done to her.

But that was too good to be true. Less than an hour later she stopped walking, staring with wide eyes at her now burning house. And across the street from it was where she worked, also burning. Everything. Everything she had ever wanted, known, or had was burning. And she could only stare at it. There were emergency vehicles on scene already. There was nothing she could do. She just stared, flabbergasted, until she saw a familiar face off to itself, smirking at her. It was the man from Jericho.

When he turned and started to walk away down an alley between buildings she threw all of her experience and intelligence to the wind, storming after him. He had done this. She knew he had. Her entire life was burning to the ground because of him. She barely registered the white sheets laid over the form of bodies as she moved past the scene of the fires.

He was waiting for her when she got into the alley.

"Hello, darling," his voice was velvety smooth, deep and sultry. It was as attractive as his meatsuit was. "I was wondering when we'd get to meet."

"Who the hell are you?" Alex demanded, stalking towards him. "Why are you destroying my life?"

"I'm giving you incentive, darling," he cooed, and with a flick of his wrist she was pinned against the wall by an invisible force, a grimace on her face. He approached her casually, smiling until he saw how she was still cradling her wrist to her chest. "What's this?" he reached over and pried it away from her chest, exposing the underside of her wrist for the first time since the green-eyed demon had done… whatever it was, to it.

Where once smooth, unblemished skin had been, was now a very fresh burn. It was blistered and the skin was raised, but the strangest part was that it was more than just a burn. It was a symbol. A strange symbol that Alex had ever seen before but apparently the blonde man had, because he scowled at it.

"I see my dear old friend Beelzebub has already gotten to you," the man let go of her wrist, letting it drop and collide with the wall behind her. "No matter. Two can play at his game."

"Wha-" Alex began before he had gripped her right wrist, pulling it up to his face and winking at her. "No. Don't. What are you doing?"

"Relax. It'll only hurt a lot." And then he pressed his lips to the inside of her right wrist. A scream erupted out of her throat as the same excruciating pain ripped through her entire being. He didn't even bother trying to muffle her screaming until he pulled away, allowing her to crumple to the ground beneath him. "There. Was that so bad?" he crouched down to her level, smirking at her sarcastically. "Calm down. I was going to do it anyway. I just didn't expect him to have gotten to you already." Alex groaned slowly as the man placed his fingers under her chin, lifting her head so she would look at him. "Honestly, doll face, I should've done this years ago. But I guess we'll just have to make do."

Alex didn't respond as she tugged her head away from him, glaring at him with as much force as she could muster. "Go to hell."

He winked at her and stood up. "Been there; done that," he told her distractedly, glancing up the alley. "I'll see you later, sweetheart. Don't you worry." And he was gone.

Alex took in several deep breaths to calm herself, carefully holding her arms out in front of her, wrists turned to face her. She grimaced at what she saw. On her left wrist there was an angry, bright red mark (Google: "Beelzebub sigil" if you'd like an idea of what it looks like), and it still burned residually. On her right wrist was a new black mark. It burned her, too, but in a cold way like frostbite. Around the strange sign on her right wrist, in between two circles, were the letters A-S-T-A-R-O-T-H. Astaroth (Google: "Astaroth seal").

"Beelzebub and Astaroth…" Alex groaned, every muscle in her body aching as if she had been hit by a bus. Maybe being hit by a bus would've been better. She wasn't sure.

Black dots were swimming around in her vision as her arms slowly dropped onto her lap, and she was soon succumbing to the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5: Vade Ad Inferos

_I'm sorry this is short. I usually balk at posting things so short, but it feels better to me to post these solo chapters like this. The shorter the chapter, the easier it is for me to get the content out for you guys quicker. I at least hope the content is good for you all. I'd hate to disappoint. So, again, please leave a review for me. Let me know how I'm doing. And don't worry. We'll interact with more and more SPN characters as time goes on. I really hope I can keep up this two a day posting routine. It's been pretty nice so far. This whole Astaroth and Beelzebub thing is going to make sense eventually. Promise._

_And hey, **snn7b**? Thanks for all the reviews. You're awesome. And thanks to **Guest** (get an account so I can call you an appropriate name!). And another to **Wilhelm Wigworthy **(love the username). You guys are awesome. All of you. Even those not leaving reviews.  
_

* * *

A startled gasp was the first noise in the semi-dark enclosed space, followed shortly by a _thump_ as Alex tried to bolt upright into a sitting position and found that she was locked in a freezing, tiny cell.

"What the fuck," she whispered, wincing at how sore her throat was, trying to reach up only to realize she was covered by a white sheet. She quickly shimmied it off of her and grimaced when she felt the cold touch her apparently nude body. Her hands groped around the freezing metal sides of her cell, trying to find some sort of a crease where the edges connected. Then she glanced above and behind her, noticing that there was a door next to her head, and that there was a handle on it. Carefully reaching up and behind her she tried it, completely surprised when it opened with no complaint. Her breath was labored as she grabbed the edges of the cell, pulling herself out slowly; it turned out she was on a sliding piece of metal.

She was expecting anything other than where she actually was as she slowly blinked her way to be able to see after being blinded by fluorescent lights. She had been in rooms like this hundreds of times before. They always looked the same. She was in a morgue. On a slab. Alex slowly sat, her now greasy brown hair falling limply around her face and shoulders as she took in her surroundings more in depth.

Then she glanced down and saw a little piece of paper tied to the big toe on her right foot. She quickly tore it off, whispering 'what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck' over and over before standing. That was when she finally saw herself reflected back in the glass window of the morgue. She looked like death. Like she had been dead. Her skin was nearly ghostly white, large black circles under her eyes, and her lips were chapped beyond belief. And…

There was a huge Y cut into her torso, stitched up. She had been autopsied on. Someone had performed an autopsy on her.

Before Alex had time to have another freak out over this newfound information she heard the flushing of a toilet from the other side of the room and quickly tugged the sheet from before up to cover herself with as a short balding man walked out of the bathroom while drying his hands. They stared at each other for several seconds before:

"What. The. Fuck!" the man shouted, quickly backtracking into the bathroom as he looked from her to the metal slab she had crawled off of. "Oh, God! Stay away! Please, don't eat me!"

"I…" Alex began, both amused and bemused by the situation, "I'm pretty sure I'm not a zombie. I've hunted a few of those before and they never acted like I have so far."

"Oh my God…" the man muttered, still keeping his distance from her. "You're that dead hot chick! Dead: keyword!"

"Uh, thanks, for the uh, compliment," she awkwardly replied, carefully taking a step forward. "Look, I don't really know what's going on. Or what happened. What day is this? Where am I?"

"Stay back!" the man shouted instead, grabbing a toilet brush to swing at her. "I'll… I'll… I won't warn you again!"

Alex groaned as her eyes rolled up towards the ceiling, shaking her head. "Shhh," she told him, a finger moving to her lips. "Calm down."

Much to her and the man's surprise, when he tried to speak again he found he couldn't open his mouth. Which caused him to freak out even more and back away from her and trip over the toilet behind him.

Alex winced as she saw that. "Sorry. Sorry, I… I've never done that before. That's new. I need to hit up a library or something. These demons… they did something to me. I still don't know what. But apparently… it isn't good. Where's my stuff?"

The mortician barely motioned towards a closet across the room, watching her like she was going to snap and kill him at any second. Alex nodded her thanks, but before she moved to the room apparently holding her things she moved towards the bathroom, grabbing it and pushing it shut. "Sorry!" she called into it, propping a chair under the handle so that the man couldn't get out. She couldn't exactly have some terrified mortician sneaking up behind her while she was unarmed.

After making sure the chair was secure Alex moved on to the closet, carefully looking over each of the tupperware boxes until finding some labeled 'Alexandria Colt'. The ID she had with her in her bag had that name on it. It was her mother's maiden name. She had learned early on from her Dad to never carry her real name around on her. She wrapped the sheet around until it was under her armpit, reaching forward to heft out the boxes with her things in it, but stopped when she saw her wrists.

She swallowed nervously as she examined them, each of the marks were now inky black like a tattoo instead of burns, but had the texture of a scar. She was sort of hoping that was just a dream. A really weird dream. But she_ had_ just woken up on a slab in a morgue. Where the mortician had thought she was dead. So dreams were out of the picture.

Five minutes later Alex was clothed again in the same outfit she wore as before: a sapphire t-shirt, black skinny jeans, her umber boots, and her jacket. She dug around in her bag until she found an elastic hair-bow to wrap her hair in, making a loose bun at the nape of her neck with the greasy locks. She stopped to observe herself momentarily in the same window as she had before, frowning as she could still see the top of the Y from where she had been autopsied. Opting to button up her jacket instead of risk someone seeing it, satisfied that she at least had enough blood flow back to make her face seem less dead (though she still looked like a vampire from a stupid film), Alex left the morgue.

She exited the building through a less used backdoor, keeping her head down as she walked with her hands stuffed into her pockets. She had absolutely no explanation for what had happened to her over the past few days. Or even how long it had been. It was October 31st when she met Sam and Dean. She was on that hunt with them for two days. Then on that bus that green-eyed demon, Beelzebub, said she had slept for two days. And now? She had no idea. Apparently she had been_ dead_. At least, that's what the files in the folder she had stolen and put in her purse said. The file said they found her on the same day that her house and work had burned, but it didn't have the current date.

So when she came across an elderly man sitting on a bench by himself with a newspaper, nearly to the end, she sat beside of him and patiently waited until he was done. He gave the newspaper to her easily when she asked politely, all smiles. He had even asked if she was alright, considering how pale she was. She had simply laughed it off and wished him a good day as he walked off. She was more concerned with the headline story. It was on the fires. She had to swallow several times and blink back tears as she read that there were no survivors. All of her friends over the past five years had worked in that building. And they were dead.

But the kicker was when she read the date: it was November 7th. Exactly three days after the fires and when her supposed date of death was. And one week since she had met her brothers.

"Easily the craziest week of my life," Alex mumbled to herself quietly as she sat the newspaper down beside of her, digging through her bag for her phone. With no evidence that she had been alive for the last three days and a mountain of evidence that pointed to her being dead she had no choice but to believe it. She had died. Was dead. Is now alive. How did that work?

The pit of her stomach dropped when she finally found her phone, noticing immediately it was much lighter. That was because the battery was missing. After searching through her purse for it she was left to assume it was taken and groaned, leaning forward on her knees and dropping her face into her hands. The only number she had in it memorized was her Dad's. And she was nearly 100% sure he'd not answer a random number. She had no way to contact her brothers or Bobby to let them know. And Bobby was who she wanted to talk to about what had happened. The man was a walking encyclopedia of weird.

She stayed like that for several moments, considering her options, when she felt someone sit beside of her. And that someone was by no means inconspicuous as he let his left thigh touch her right one as he leaned back against the bench. She carefully glanced at the leg touching hers, noticing the expensive leather shoes and the material of his pants. Whoever he was one thing was for certain: he had good taste.

"You all right, darling?" the man drawled, his voice velvety and foreign. "You look like hell."

Alex sighed and sat up, turning to get an appropriate look at the man. Judging by his accent he was from the UK somewhere. Scotland maybe. His clothes were definitely of a higher class than any American wore. Despite it being all black beside his tie, which was varying shades of blue, it was very nice. She could appreciate that. She preferred to make or wear clothes with the best of the best, and he definitely had it on. His hair was a bit thin and a mousy brown, his eyes also brown, and he was watching her look him over with an amused smirk on his face.

"Darling, looking's free. Touching will cost you," he joked, leaning forward and nearer to her. "You're not so bad yourself. If you can get past that deathly pallor of yours. Have you never been out in the sun?"

"I've been a little busy being dead," Alex deadpanned shaking her head and standing up. "Look, nice to meet you, but I've got stuff to do. And I'm really not in the mood to sit around talking to men I don't even know."

Instead of balking away like she had hoped he would, thinking she was crazy maybe, the man stood up after her. "Dead, eh?" he asked her, staring across at her. They were equals in height. His brown eyes were curious and hers were dark and frustrated as they stared at each other. "Sounds like you're in need of some R&R, sweetheart. What do you say? A nice trip to the Bahamas, no charge? Or maybe your own private island?"  
"Look, no idea what you're trying to do," Alex told him, shaking her head and taking a step back. "But I'm not biting. Your clothes are nice, and expensive, but there's no way you could just give out things like that."

When his eyes turned red suddenly and only for an instant Alex groaned, throwing her head back in frustration. "Seriously?" she asked no one in particular before looking back at the man in front of her. "Seriously? I am so done with demons this week. I have definitely filed my weekly quota for demons. I want nothing more to do with demons for years. And I'm definitely not making a deal with one."

His eyebrows raised at that, now much more interested than he was before when he had thought there was a chance for a deal. "So you know what I am?"

"Yeah," Alex rolled her eyes, holding up her left wrist and pulling back the sleeve to reveal the mark there. "I've been dealing with you assholes all week now. Although I'm pretty sure the other two weren't crossroads demons."

He peered at it curiously before turning to look back at her face, smirking again. "I'm not just any crossroads demon, darling. I'm the King of Crossroads Demons. The name's Crowley. What about your name?"

"First name None, middle name Of, last name Yourbusiness," Alex spat, completely done with the whole conversation. She had enough on her plate without having to deal with the friggin' King of Crossroads Demons. "And now my name is Leaving."

Crowley smirked after her as she walked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he watched her. "All right. Catch you later then, kitten," he called after her, disappearing as she flipped him off.

* * *

Officially alone again Alex moved on to a nearby library. She needed to research the two assholes who had apparently killed her.

And she needed to find a way to contact her brothers or Bobby.

At this point she was seriously hoping she hadn't been turned into a demon somehow. Especially after she had managed to_ force_ the mortician to be quiet. Then again, that Crowley demon had approached her for a deal. So that at least meant she had a soul that could be taken. That was something, at least. But she wasn't hungry. She wasn't even thirsty. If she had been dead for three days she would've figured that after an hour of searching with no real leads she would've been ravenous.

The most she had found on Beelzebub or Astaroth was that they were, in lore, powerful demons. Beelzebub was apparently mentioned several times during the Salem witch trials. Astaroth was a little more elusive in her searches. The most she got on him was that St. Bartholomew was able to resist his temptations and thus became able to protect or ward against him. Basically, she found a whole lot of nothing.

She was frustrated beyond belief at this point, but the library was closing and left her no choice but to leave and move on to her next plan of action. She had to make it to Bobby's. He'd have some old book or something with more information for her. So that's what she sat out to do.

But first she stopped in a truck stop to have a quick shower. The hot water cascading down her body eased her sore muscles, most of them still stiff from her few days spent dead. She groaned as she remembered she had died again. There was no explanation for that. She was dead for three days, and she remembered nothing. No Heaven. No Hell. No in between. Just a huge black spot in her memory. And not knowing was bothering her more than if she had found out what was waiting for them after death. She had accepted years ago, after seeing so many people die, that because she was a hunter she would probably die young. She just had no idea young was twenty-three.

As the water poured over her head, muffling noises around her, Alex suddenly became very aware that there was something very not good behind her. Her left wrist felt like it was on fire again. She braced herself as she turned around, grimacing when she saw two fully clothed people standing outside of her stall. The one in the front was unfortunately familiar.

"I told you not to worry, didn't I?" the velvety voice of Astaroth drawled out, smiling at her as he very obviously looked over her naked body. "You have a very nice body, darling. If only you weren't marred by that large scar."

"You freakin' killed me. They performed an autopsy on me." Alex got straight to the point, shutting off the water behind her. "What do you want?"

"You died?" he asked her instead of answering, both of his eyebrows raising. "And you're alive again?"

"Apparently," Alex frowned, glancing from him to the others standing behind him. "So, what is this? What do you want? You're Astaroth, right?"

"My name is indeed Astaroth," Astaroth smiled at her, taking a step back. "And this is me having you killed. Again. And for good this time."

The other demon surged forward, taking that as his cue to attack. He was taller than Alex, more built, and she was definitely no match for him. She ducked under him as he dove at her, sliding on the wet floor out into the open area of the room. Her single slip up gave the demon an opportunity to tackle her to the ground. He grinned down at her as he pinned her, pulling out a knife with his left hand. Astaroth was watching on silently from the side of the room, having moved out of the way when Alex moved the fight from the little stall.

The demon swiped down at her throat with his knife, aiming to kill. Alex did all she could, considering her right arm was pinned by her head, and reached forward with her left hand to catch the demon's wrist and try to keep it from making contact. It was as much of a surprise for him as it was her when what felt like fire surged out of her hand, the mark on her wrist glowing red as the demon was forced still.

"Vade…" Alex mumbled, pain coursing through her as power surged out of her hand and into the demon. "Vade… ad inferos."

The demon's true form was forced out of the poor man it possessed, swirling in the air before it crushed downwards, dissipating in a white flash.

Alex heaved the now unconscious meatsuit off of her, looking around desperately for Astaroth, expecting him to attack her next. But he was gone.

She wasn't about to stick around to be attacked again, though. She quickly got to her feet, taking the knife that demon had used to attack her as she went to put her clothes back on and quickly braid her hair. Within ten minutes she was out of there, having hotwired some poor idiot who had left their window down's car.

Her next stop? Sioux Falls, South Dakota. She needed to find answers.

She had just exorcised a demon with three words. Three words. Three words that she didn't even know she knew. That wasn't right. This whole situation was not right. And she was officially freaked out.


	6. Chapter 6: Wendi-gogos

_Hey all! I really hope you enjoy this chapter. I thought it was pretty fun to write. More and more weird things are being added to the chalkboard one by one... Maybe we'll eventually get to understand what's happening. And good news: after the next chapter I plan on doing another one with Sam and Dean. So in two chapters we get to be a family again! (Not us. The Winchesters. Unless you all want to be my family. I'm okay with that.) Don't forget to leave me a review if you have the time to. I appreciate criticism or praise. And I definitely would like to know if this is still moving in a decent direction. I know it feels slow, but it'll start to speed up soon. I promise._

* * *

Twelve hours after Alex started driving she had to stop, coming to the sudden realization that she needed to use the bathroom. It was more than a little strange that it took her so long to figure out she needed to go, considering it had obviously been at least four days since she had, but she chalked it up as a 'dead thing' and moved on. She was just outside of Sioux City, Iowa, less than hour from Sioux Falls. And if she went over the speed limit she could make it in under forty-five minutes.

So she pulled off of the interstate she was on, having chosen it because it was the fastest means of travel by car, and into a rest stop. It was a fairly secluded place, and considering it was nearing 2 in the morning she wasn't surprised that there were only a few cars around. An SUV was parked nearer to the wooded area beside of the building the housed the bathrooms and tourist information, an older man asleep in the drivers seat; a compact car like the one she had stolen was parked a little nearer to the doors and two young women were leaned against it, smoking casually and talking about something or other; the last car in the lot was an old, beat up Ford Ranchero.

Alex grimaced slightly as she walked by the Ranchero, knowing it had seen better days and wishing someone had taken better care of it. But to each their own. So she continued on her way to the bathroom, tugging her jacket around her torso because of the nippy weather. She made her way into the building, looking around for a sign to direct her to the bathroom. It was a pretty normal rest stop: tiled floors, buzzing lights, a ton of brochures. Nothing out of the ordinary. A scrawny looking man was talking to the security guard stationed at the rest stop.

She passed by the scrawny man and the security guard on her way to the lady's room, hesitating slightly when she overheard their conversation.

"So you're saying that every thirty or so years more people disappear from around this area?" the scrawny guy asked him, scratching at his scruffy beard as they spoke.

"Like clockwork, it seems," the elderly security guard affirmed, his hair almost completely gone with his age. He had mace and a taser on his belt.

"And none of them were ever seen again?" the scrawny man frowned, his light blue eyes watching the guard for any signs of a lie.

"Not as far as I know," the guard sat again, running a wrinkled hand over his face. "Just poof. Gone."

Alex internally groaned as she eyed the bathroom door in front of her, deciding it could wait until later, and she turned to join their conversation. "Sounds like a wendigo. Vics taken but never found. Thirty year cycle. Please don't tell me it's around the same time when it should be waking up again."

The scrawny brown haired guy gawked at her with his mouth open while the security guard gave her a look that shouted he thought she was crazy.

"It, uh, sorry, excuse us," the younger man fumbled, motioning for Alex to follow him across the room to a more isolated location by the window. "Hi," he smiled at her awkwardly, holding a hand out to her, "I'm Garth. Garth Fitzgerald the IV. Are you a hunter?"

"I am," she replied, shaking his hand for a second. "My name is…" Alex hesitated. Should she be giving her name out to strangers? She had demons out trying to kill her. Probably not a good decision. "It's not important," she amended, smiling at him lamely. "Are you a hunter, too?"

"Uh, yeah," Garth was momentarily thrown by her not giving her name, but jumped back into it enthusiastically and smiling. "Sort of new at this. How do you know it isn't just a haunting?"

"Well, the lights aren't flickering and it isn't very cold in here," Alex pointed out, raising an eyebrow. He was new. She hadn't met a new hunter before. She was curious as to why he was suddenly hunting, even though she knew it was probably a depressing reason. "And spirits don't need their vics alive. They just kill them. Wendigos always take their vics and keep them alive for as long as possible so they can continue to feed on them."

"Yeah, yeah," Garth nodded, actually excited. "I know a little about them. They were human once, turned into cannibals, turned into wendigos. How do we find it?"

"You want to go out and find a wendigo?" Alex asked him incredulously, shaking her head at his green behind the ear outlook. "At night? No way. They're perfect hunters. Has anyone disappeared recently?"

Garth was about to answer when a scream, inappropriately timed, echoed in from outside, making both Alex and Garth spring into action. Garth was taller than her, his long legs allowing him to move faster, but they both froze at what they saw outside. The SUV had been busted into and the man dragged out of it by one extremely tall and extremely frightening looking creatures, its skin gray and sallow; the two girls that had been talking while leaned up against their car were in the grips of a completely different wendigo. Two wendigos.

"Holy shit," Alex's eyes were huge as she looked between the two wendigos. "There are two. Holy shit."

Garth had begun to pull his gun out before Alex stopped him, gripping his wrist instead and dragging him quickly back to where they came from. "Shooting it will only piss it off," she spoke quickly, tugging against him when he resisted. "They'll be kept alive for now. We are in no way prepared for this. We have to get inside and protect ourselves."

He nodded and turned to run back in with her, helping her push the security guard back into the rest stop. They had all stopped right outside of the doors and froze in fright. Talk about a terrible way to find out monsters exist.

But then they heard a ghastly voice call out 'Help me!' from the wooded area off to the right of the rest stop. Alex froze, turning to see that the two wendigos from before were still in her line of sight. That meant there was a third. Three wendigos. Three. Wendigos.

"Go! Go! Go!" Alex urged, shoving them both inside and slamming the doors shut. "Garth, go seal the other exits! Does anyone have a marker or chalk? Something I could write on the walls with?"

The security guard woke out of his stupor as she asked that, trying to charge back out the doors. "They need help! We've got to help them!"

"No way," Alex stood in front of the doors, her hands up defensively. "Those people can be helped later. For now we have to defend ourselves. Okay? If we go out there now we'll only end up in the same situation as them. So we have to use our brains. One wendigo at night is bad. I've never even heard of a wendigo working any other way than solitary."

Garth had returned at this point and was listening to Alex like the guard.

"We are in some deep shit here," Alex continued, unbuttoning her jacket to pull the knife she had jacked off of that demon out of a pocket on the inside. "Those things out there are hungry. And we're their meal ticket. So if we want to get through tonight we have got to play it smart. They're impeccable hunters. Even more so when it's dark. So please, just do what me and Garth say. We know what we're doing, and we want to help us all survive this."

Alex nodded when he didn't speak out against her or try to leave, kneeling down to begin carving an Anasazi protective circle into the tile in front of the door. She was actually a little startled with her newfound ability to take control over the situation, but it was definitely a nice change up. She was the most experienced there, anyway. She had to take charge regardless of whether she felt she could or not. The surprise was that she was just so good at it. She had never been able to keep people calm like that before.

"Okay, yeah, good," Garth spoke up, clearing his throat to take over where Alex had left off when he realized she was done talking. "Does anyone have a working cell phone?"

"There's a landline in back office," the security guard spoke up, motioning back towards the bathrooms and where they were before.

Garth hesitated, glancing back to Alex who had stood up.

"What?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow. "Be my guest. I'm sure the police would know exactly what to do. I'm going to the backdoor to put another symbol down. It should keep them out. Just be careful."

"Was gonna call Bobby, actually," Garth told her, glancing from her to the security guard. "He's not too far out." Alex nodded, realizing that was an excellent plan, and right as they all began moving to where they were going the lights began to flicker before suddenly going out altogether.

"Well that's not in the normal MO for a wendigo," Alex spoke barely above a whisper, cautiously glancing around. "Let's stick together, okay? If the lights are out so are the phones. So come on, let's go put this last circle down at the other door."

They were carefully and quietly maneuvering through the hall to the back door, the only sounds were their breathing and footsteps. Alex was honestly still surprised the security guard had fallen into league with them so easily. It usually took a lot more convincing for a civilian to let them take control of a situation.

She kept thinking about that as she knelt and began carving into the tile. It was so odd. She just couldn't stop thinking about how strange it was. That was when a fly buzzed around in a trashcan beside of her.

"No…" she spoke slowly, carefully standing and turning to face Garth and the security guard. The fly had brought back an extremely unpleasant memory of the bus she had been on. "It's you, isn't it?" Alex asked, her grip on her knife making her knuckles white, staring at the security guard with eyes that were growing wider by the second.

Garth was thoroughly confused as he looked between Alex and the security guard. He had no idea what was going on as the guard began to laugh and she darted forward, nabbing his wrist and tugging him behind her. "What's going on?" he asked, his face scrunched up as he tried to figure it out.

"Took you long enough," the guard laughed even more, his eyes rolling back in his head to reveal solid green ones, barely illuminated by the emergency lights. "This whole little setup is my new present for you. Oh, I do like spoiling you."

He smoked out as she opened her mouth for a rebuttal, causing both Alex and Garth to raise their arms over their heads as he blew out of the door behind them, the security guard meatsuit he was in crumpling to the ground in a dead heap.

She and Garth stood silent for several seconds, each taking into account what the hell had just happened in such a short amount of time. Until they started hearing several calls in different voices of 'help me!' from outside. Then they both surged forward to pull the doors back shut, latching them and take several steps away from them.

And then they turned suspicious and nervous eyes to each other.

"Are you a demon?" Alex asked as calmly as she could, still tightly gripping the blade even though it would do no good if he was.

"That's the first time I've ever even seen a demon," Garth responded, holding his hands up in his defense. "Honest." He moved to crouch down beside of the dead man, feeling for a pulse and check for breath. "So, uh… are you a demon? Or… something?"

"Pretty sure I'm human," she responded honestly, exhaling slowly to calm herself.

"Only pretty sure?" Garth questioned, standing back up to look at her.

"It's been a strange week," was all she said to that. She blinked several times as she steadied her breathing, her lips drawn into a thin line. "And it just keeps getting worse. But for now all we can really do is wait it out until morning. Do you think there's any salt around here? There's probably not enough to do all of the windows and doors, but if we could at least salt ourselves into a bathroom or something; it's better than nothing."

Garth frowned at her, suddenly opening his arms widely. "You look like you could use a hug." He took a step towards her, his arms still outstretched as if he expected her to just hug him out of the blue.

"Uh…" Alex raised an eyebrow at him, "No thanks. We have bigger fish to fry right now. Let's go find some salt."

Garth hesitated until they both heard what sounded like claws scraping across the wall outside of the door they were near. "Yeah. Okay. But you're definitely getting a hug later."

"If we survive the night you can hug me as much as you want," she decided, turning and leading them back into the rest stop. "Where would they keep salt in this place?"

"Supply closet maybe? They'd need it for the sidewalks in winter in case they ice over," Garth pointed out, trailing behind her. "So what do we need to kill wendigos? And that demon?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure the demon won't be back tonight," Alex said over her shoulder, peering around the room for a supply closet. "He doesn't seem like the type to stick around for a chat, so I doubt he'll come back. He said what he needed. But we're gonna camp out in the bathroom and salt the windows and doors in it just in case, if we can find some salt. As for wendigos? Fire. Their Achillies is fire. But they're damn hard to kill. Just one is a pain in the ass. They're fast, strong, and intelligent. Perfect predators."

"Over here," Garth called to her, opening a door labeled 'cleaning', since it was the closest to a supply closet he had seen. "How do you know all of this?"

"I spent a lot of time reading at my Uncle's when I was little," Alex shrugged, peering in the closet around him. "See any salt?"

"No," Garth deflated slightly before picking himself back up again. "Oh well. Hopefully you're right and he won't show again. So," he shut the door again and walked over to a bench, plopping down onto it and patting the seat beside of him for her to sit on, which she hesitantly did. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Alex turned slightly to look at him in the very dim light of the room, frowning as he saw how much his emotions played across his face. He actually seemed to care about some strange woman that he didn't even know the name of.

"Well, knowing your name would be nice," he pointed out, as if he had read her mind even though he hadn't. "But considering that demon back there seems to have it out for you I can't exactly blame you for not telling me. We just can't do anything until morning, like you said. So I figured we could talk about anything you wanted. You just look like you need someone to talk to."

"You're being incredibly caring considering you don't even know me," Alex pointed out, shrugging her jacket off to become more comfortable. "But you're right. I do need someone to talk to. Normally I'd call my Dad. Or maybe even my Uncle. Or my brothers. But I can't call any of them."

"Why not? I mean, besides the obvious," Garth asked her, motioning with his head at the still gone electricity.

"Well," Alex began, putting the knife she had been holding onto down on the bench beside of her. "I only really know my Dad's number, for one. And he's too busy for me to want to call and bother. He's a hunter," she clarified for him, shrugging. "So is my Uncle. And my brothers. It's a family business."

"So you've been hunting your whole life with your family?" he asked, and for all intents and purposes he actually seemed interested in her life. Maybe he was. She wasn't sure. She hadn't exactly been meeting the nicest of people over the last week.

"Not really. I hunted with my foster parents for a long time, my Dad would pop in pretty randomly and do some hunts with me or spend time with me. My Uncle never liked me hunting, so whenever Dad or my foster parents left me with him he always took me to a movie or something instead of teaching me how to use a gun like he was supposed to. And I actually only just met my brothers last week. We're half-siblings. I did a hunt with them out in California, actually. A haunting. A hell of a lot less confusing than whatever the hell's been going on since then."

She was honestly surprised at how easy it was to just rant to Garth about her life and how screwy it was. Maybe it was how he was earnestly watching her, legitimately interested in what she had to say. She hadn't actually ever had someone she could just talk to. He was really an exceptional listener.

"So your entire life you've been hunting," Garth clarified, whistling lowly. "That's harsh. Did you grow up knowing about all this stuff?"

"Yeah. Sucked as a kid, but now I'm glad for it. Besides, like I said, it's the family business. Saving people, hunting things. It's worth it. At least I know what to do when I see something normal people don't understand." Alex smiled at him a little, warily glancing at the windows as a shadow ran past. "So, what about you? Why did you start hunting?"

Garth shrugged, running his hands over his jeans instead of answering.

"So it was pretty recent," Alex gathered, a frown tugging at her lips. "Sorry. You don't have to talk about it. I've met a lot of hunters that started out because of something traumatic. My Dad did. So I understand. So how about we work on a way to kill the wendigos instead of being trapped in this chick flick moment?"

"Yeah. You said fire, right?" Garth was relieved by her change in the subject, back to smiling. "I think I have a lighter in my car."

"Does your car happen to be in here with us? Maybe hiding in the bathroom?" Alex raised an eyebrow at him playfully as he glanced out at the doors.

"Good point. Do you have anything?" he looked back to her as she rummaged through her bag.

"I've got a little bit of salt, some holy water, and a cell phone without a battery. And a little bit of cash. So I think it's time to start looking through this place. There are plenty of flammable things around, we just need something to start-"

They both stood abruptly as the sound of glass shattering echoed through from the back of the building, holding their breath as they listened. When it happened a second time Alex snapped back to reality.

"Bathroom," she spoke lowly and quickly, giving Garth a sharp shove in the direction of the men's room. There was only one door into it and the windows were too small for a wendigo to get through. It was the safest place for them for the moment.

"I thought you said those circles would protect us for the night," Garth whispered when they got in the bathroom, locking the door behind them and looking for something to block it with.

"They should have," Alex replied in a whisper, running a hand through her hair, pulling some of it out of its braid as she did. "Unless… Beelzebub. He could've altered the symbol."

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!" Alex and Garth both jumped at the sudden shout from the other side of the door, taking several steps back as it swung open to reveal the security guard from before. His eyes were once again a deep green. "Sorry, should I have said that quieter?" Beelzebub grinned at them, glancing behind him to where a wendigo must have been. Alex couldn't see it, but if it was there it would have been in such a dark corner. Looming. Waiting for its victim.

"I was getting bored," Beelzebub moved on to clarify, placing his hands on his hips. "Show and tell was all very fun, but I'm a very busy man. I've got places to be. So let's cut this one a little short, yeah?"

"It was going to be short anyway," Alex frowned at him, trying to move to stand in front of Garth who wasn't about to let her do that. "Three wendigos? That's overkill. One wendigo would have been enough. There's nothing here that could start a fire."

"No?" Beelzebub raised a single eyebrow at her, causing her to hesitate and frown. That was enough for him, apparently, so with a wink he was gone. And this time he took the body of the deceased security guard with him.

"What was he going on about?" Garth asked her quickly, staring out into the dark rest stop as if he could see a wendigo coming in the blackness.

"I…" Alex hesitated again, pulling her left wrist up to gaze at the marking that Beelzebub had left there. She had forced that mortician to be quiet with just a thought. She had exorcised a demon with three words. Maybe it wasn't that farfetched to think… "I think I'm pyrokinetic."

"You think you're what?" he turned to face her, absolutely incredulous of the idea.

"It's been a _really_ strange week," she emphasized, glancing at him and then back outside of the door as she saw movement. "Look, Garth, you've gotta get out of here. Go out the window. I'm pretty sure all three of them are in here now. I'll take care of them. You go find those people they took. Okay?"

"No way," Garth shook his head adamantly, grabbing her shoulder. "There is no way I'm leaving you in here with three wendigos."

"I don't recall giving you a choice," Alex pointed out, shoving him towards the window as three very ominous shadows moved towards the bathroom. "Look, even if this is a terrible plan, one of us has to get out of here to at least call Bobby. Right? So go. I'll hold them off. If we don't do this, and these wendigos survive until they go back into hibernation… That means in thirty years even more people will be in danger. Hundreds of people could be killed. So go. Hurry."

Garth looked like he was about to argue again until his eyes traveled past her, to the door of the room, and grew extremely wide.

Alex pressed her eyes shut tightly for barely a second before turning. Three fifteen feet tall nightmares were stood in the doorway to the room. "Go!" she shouted a final time at him, shoving him again. This time he didn't fight it, heaving himself up to the window and shoving it open, falling out through it and onto the ground outside.

She could hear him shouting for her from outside, begging her to just try to get out of the window, but she could barely breathe. The wendigos were moving into the room with her. They were huge. And absolutely horrific. And…

Alex took a deep breath through her nose and exhaled it through her mouth, trying to will herself to be calm. "What are you three? The Wendi-gogos?" she weakly attempted a joke at the wendigos before she was suddenly grabbed by the one to her left, its long claws tearing through the fabric of her shirt with ease and sinking into the muscles of her stomach. She groaned loudly in pain, trying desperately to figure out how to make a fire. Maybe she wasn't actually pyrokinetic. Maybe that was just her being hopeful. Maybe…

A scream erupted out of her throat as she felt the wendigo's claws sink deeper into her torso. But she didn't scream because of it. She screamed because she was suddenly burning on the inside. Her entire being felt like it was on fire. And then, without warning, the fire consumed her. Inside and out. She was burning intensely, the fire radiating out in waves that quickly engulfed both the wendigos and the bathroom.

And then there was nothing.


	7. Chapter 7: Frying Pan

_Okay, so, I may have been a little sad and wrote some of this to be sad, too. But here's the next part. Not too exciting, but don't worry. We're going into S01E05 Bloody Mary after this. So it should be good. I hope. I loved that episode. _

_And maybe we'll find out something from Crowley while we're at it! The King of the Crossroads Demons has to know something, right?_

_So, as always, review if you've got the time and have anything you'd like to say. Maybe an idea for something I could add; maybe a compliment or complain, I don't care. All of it is good to me. Also, have you guys been catching any hints I've been dropping about the future of this? I've been trying very hard to be subtle. ;)_

* * *

Garth stood outside of the yellow police tape, staring at the still smoldering remains of the rest stop. It was just after sunrise, the area basked in a warm orange glow. Off to the side he could faintly hear the two sisters crying in the back of an ambulance. He had found them barely even fifty feet into the trees surrounding the rest stop, both unconscious at the time. The man from the SUV had been taken a few feet more into the woods and had been completely eviscerated.

But that man wasn't the only casualty of the night. That female hunter that had never told him her name had also died. Well, he hadn't seen her actually die, but… he could remember her screaming before the glass of the window burst out over his head, flames suddenly shooting out and soaring high into the night sky. He had no choice but to run several feet away and watch as it consumed the rest stop he had been in. He heard the agonized wails of the wendigos as they all burned…

And now he watched as firemen combed over the blackened building. Only a few of its walls were still standing. He knew what they were doing. They were looking for any signs of a victim of the fire. It had only taken ten minutes after the fire began for the emergency crews to arrive. A fire was apparently a better beacon than he had thought. He had heard them talking as he left the two girls with the paramedics. There was no way anyone could have survived in a fire that burned as hot as it had, but he had still hoped it was possible.

So after watching for a few more minutes, wishing that by some miracle the woman he had met could just magically appear and walk out of the building, he opened the door to his Ford Ranchero and started it up. He couldn't stick around too much longer without the police claiming him to be a suspect for the arson, so he left out to go to the nearest safe haven he knew of: Singer Salvage.

A little over an hour later Garth pulled up the gravel driveway, passing by several dilapidated cars. He was hoping Bobby could help him figure out what exactly had happened last night.

But, unfortunately, Bobby was at a loss after Garth described it all to him.

"So you're telling me that this girl incinerated herself and three wendigos," Bobby shook his head incredulously and took another swig of an amber liquid from his cup, "What'd you say her name was?"

"I never found it out," Garth reminded him, frustrated at himself for being frustrated at all. He liked to try and remain as positive as possible at all times. "She said she had been hunting her entire life, though. And she knew you, I think. She was all for me getting a call out to you."

"And you're sure there were three wendigos? And a demon?" Bobby was eyeing the untouched beer in Garth's hands suspiciously.

"Yes," Garth repeated, trying not to sound as frustrated as he felt. The entire situation confused him. Sure, he was new at the whole hunting thing, but what he had experienced last night was just weird. "Look, maybe you've met her? She was pretty tall, brown eyes and hair, kept it in a braid, freckles; she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with some combat style boots. Sound familiar? She said hunting was her family business. Apparently her Dad and brothers and Uncle also hunt. I mean, she's dead. And that sucks. And her family needs to be told. Right?"

Bobby was staring at Garth intensely, making Garth wonder if he had something on his face. "She said that? She said her family hunts?"

"Uh… yeah," Garth nodded, his brow creasing in confusion. Hadn't he just said that? "She said she did a haunting with her brothers in… California, somewhere, last week. Apparently it was the first time she had even met them."

Bobby gingerly sat his glass on the desk in front of him, swallowing back some saliva that had built up in his throat. His eyes were locked onto the barely rippling alcohol as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. He wouldn't cry; that wasn't something he normally did, but he was visibly shaken by what Garth had said. His lips were pressed together tightly. His entire being was stiff.

"Bobby?" Garth asked quietly, concerned for his still new friend and the man who had been teaching him about hunting.

"Alex," Bobby coughed a little, raising his eyes from the glass to Garth, a shadow cast over them by the bill of his trucker cap. "Her name is Alex. Was Alex. Alexandria Gabriella Winchester."

"So you… you knew her," Garth clarified, suddenly feeling very, very guilty.

"She, ah, damn it…" Bobby took in a shaky breath, pulling himself together. "That idjit," he mumbled softly, shaking his head. "I used to watch after her, when she was growing up. She took to calling me Uncle Bobby."

"Oh…" Garth spoke lowly, understanding and suddenly feeling like a big bag of dicks. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"She, uh…" Bobby sighed, shaking his head and standing. "She went out in a good way. She took out three wendigos with her. She probably saved hundreds of lives. It was a good death. I'm proud of her."

Garth also stood up, sitting his still full beer down. "I, uh… I'm gonna head out. I'm really sorry for your loss, Bobby. She seemed like a good person."

Bobby just nodded in response, watching Garth leave before slowly making his way to the wall where all of his phones were hanging. He had to do it. He knew he did. It was the right thing to do. But it didn't make it any easier.

Hell, he and John Winchester may not have parted on good terms, but he knew John loved that girl. Loved her just as much as his sons. Sure, Bobby felt like John could've treated her a little better, maybe actually introduced the kids to each other, but he couldn't convince John to do it. So Bobby did the best he could to give her as much love as he gave the boys. The kid needed it. She was all on her own out there. She had no brother to fall back on like they did. No father around to make sure she stayed safe.

And now she was gone. That little girl that Bobby could vividly remember sitting on his counter and bitching at him while he fussed over the knee she had scraped when she tried to jump off of a car. Sure, she had grown up and traded in the tiny pigtails for a braid and left behind the days of baggy shirts and shorts, but she was still just a kid to him. A kid forced into a life that ultimately got her killed before she could even experience most of it.

And so, with a final shaky breath, Bobby picked up a phone off of the wall and began dialing a number he had memorized so many years ago.

_(Flashback)_

_Bobby stood on the old wooden porch in front of his house with John Winchester, holding a sleeping six year old girl firmly to his chest._

_John Winchester was watching the girl sleep, obviously unwilling to have to leave her again, but knowing it was his best option. "Alright," he spoke, his gruff voice masking any emotions he may or may not have felt as he looked up at Bobby. "You have my number. Only call for an emergency. Larry and Lauren should be around in a few days to get her."_

_Bobby looked past John then, to the black Impala in the drive. He could barely make out the figures of two boys playing in the backseat through the blanket of rain that was falling from the sky. "John," he spoke up finally, looking back at the taller man beside of him. "Why do this? What harm could come from introducing them? She's your kid, too, you know. And she'd fit right in with those two idjits."_

_John's only reply was his typical one when Bobby brought this up. "Bobby, we've been over this. Alex is better off not spending a lot of time with us. It's safer for her."_

_And Bobby had replied with his own normal response. "Is it, though? How is it safer for her to be alone?"_

_And John had just shaken his head at that, stomping off through the rain and back to the Impala. "Call me only for an emergency," he called over his shoulder, yanking the door open and getting in before speeding off._

_Bobby watched the car until it pulled around the corner, a frown ruling his features as the rain grew softer around them. The smell of rust and wet dirt wafted around them after the Impala had left._

_Slight stirring in his arms caused him to look down at the little girl in his arms. She was peering up at him curiously, her doe brown eyes wide and confused. "Uncle Bobby?" she had questioned him, lifting her head to look around at where they were. "Where's Daddy?"_

_"Yer Dad's gone off on a hunt for a few days," Bobby had instantly replied, feeling his heartstrings tug helplessly as she re-positioned herself to wrap her arms around his neck._

_"Why's he always gotta leave me behind?" she had asked him, burying her face into his neck despite the rough whiskers there. "Does he not like me?"_

_And that had near about broken his heart. He had taken her in after that, sitting her on the counter in the kitchen and looking her eye to eye. "Alex," he had begun before abruptly stopping. What was he supposed to say? 'Your Dad's the biggest dick I've ever met'? "Your Dad, he loves you. You know that. He's just watching out for you."_

_"But Uncle Bobby," Alex had continued, tears welling up in her eyes. "If he loves me how come he doesn't want me to meet my brothers? Are they specialer than me?"_

_And was what propelled Bobby to make one of the easiest decisions of his life. The kid in front of him was already feeling things she shouldn't have had to so young. So he did what he had to. There was no way in hell he was gonna let this kid think she was any less important than anyone else. Especially not when she still thought 'specialer' was a word._

_"Alex, I can't speak for your Dad here. It's something he'll have to tell you one day, because I just don't know. But I do know this: you're just as important as those boys are. You hear that? And hey," he gently poked her nose, smiling at her as he saw her little frown curving up. "You're a heck of a lot prettier than them, too."_

_Alex's giggles reverberated through the room and absolutely melted his heart. She was just six years old. He hated that she was growing up this way. So he was going to do everything in his power to give her some semblance of a childhood._

_"Hey, you wanna go out for some ice cream and a movie?"_

_(End flashback)_

The phone rang out four times before it skipped over to voicemail, Bobby grimacing the whole time. Would it have honestly killed that man to answer the phone one time? But of course not. So after John's normal rant about leaving messages, Bobby began to speak. "John, it's Bobby. Bobby Singer. I'm, uh…" Bobby paused, clearing his throat. This was the one phone call he never wanted to have to make. "Look, I'm calling because I just found out that Alex…" he took another second, feeling a sudden anger rise in him. "Damn it, John! Why did you have to be such a damned fool?" Bobby cursed him, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She's dead, John. Alex is dead. She got cornered in some rest stop outside of Sioux City, Iowa, by three wendigos and a demon. It was just her and some green-behind-the-ears kid who thought he was hunting a spirit. She took 'em out with a bomb or somethin', apparently…" Bobby groaned, shaking his head in exasperation. "The whole place burnt. Her included. They couldn't find any remains." And, with nothing else to add, he hung up; his message ending on a sour note.

Less than five minutes later and three states away, in a dimly lit motel room, John Winchester sat back in his chair, staring at the phone in his hands. He had recognized the number when it rang, so he didn't answer it. Bobby Singer was at the bottom of his list of people he wanted to talk to. The top of the list were his children; all three of them.

But when his phone pinged to let him know that Bobby had left a voicemail he had to listen to it. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach only continued to grow as he heard the beginnings of the message, wishing Bobby would just spit it out already.

And then he did exactly that.

And John Winchester, the man who had practiced steeling his emotions for decades, sat as still as a rock in his chair, staring at the phone in his hand as if he could will it to jump up and scream 'April Fools!' at him. Even though it was November. He numbly gazed around the motel room at the various papers hanging on the walls, not really seeing them as he did. He had just received one of the worst phone calls of his life. His daughter was dead. The child he had tried so hard, at first, to avoid becoming attached to. She had died. Alone. Facing down three wendigos and a demon.

And she had died in a fire. He sat upright at that realization. A fire. And a demon. Those two things had killed his daughter. And his wife. Sure, the two weren't related, but they were both important women in his life. And he may not know exactly how his daughter went out. But his youngest son's girlfriend had just been killed the same way as Mary had. The cards were lining up to point at the same culprit: the yellow-eyed demon.

John Winchester had more incentive now than ever to find that yellow-eyed sonuvabitch. And he was going to do it alone. He couldn't risk his last two kids being killed, too. One was bad enough. So he made the decision, then and there, to not tell his sons about their sister. Hell, they had only just met her. They didn't need to know she was dead.

* * *

The blackened ruins of what was once a normal rest stop stood solemnly in the sunrise. The fires had burned out three days ago. The yellow caution tape was still surrounding the area, but it was deserted. Devoid of all life.

Or, it was. A sudden, sharp noise pierced the area in the quiet dawn, followed by multiple bouts of coughing and sputtering as slowly, from the ashes, a body emerged; it was female, completely naked, and completely covered in soot.

Alex continued to cough and sputter as she came to, scrambling to stand up as she realized where she was laying. Everything around her was in ashes. And she was covered in ashes, she quickly noticed, looking down at her body. And her clothes were gone. Again.

Her lungs felt as dry as bone as she coughed again, carefully walking out of the mess up wood, stone, and charred remains of the building. She needed something to drink. Desperately. But the whole place was deserted.

"I died… again," she spoke out loud, more of an affirmation to herself than anything else. She remembered the flames as they burst out of her. She was conscious as she was burning to death. She had seen all of the wendigos die. And then she had died. From smoke inhalation.

She only made it as far as the first tree that hadn't been touched by the flames before she collapsed onto her knees, breathing heavily and wiping at the soot covering her mouth and nose. It was a fruitless endeavor, though. She was just completely blackened.

Alex pulled herself back to lean against the tree, pulling her legs up to her chest to cover her torso and wrapping her arms around them. She was still coughing, apparently trying to hack out a lung or something, but it was slowly evening out. So she rested her head against the tree, closing her eyes momentarily as the sun warmed her dirty face.

And then she heard the snap of a stick off to her left, immediately sending her into a panicked action as she turned to try and find out what it was.

Instead of the wendigo she had almost convinced herself it was going to be Alex found herself staring up into the very curious face of the same well-dressed demon she had met shortly after she died the first time.

"Well, isn't this a curious sight?" his Scottish accent drawled out, crouching down to her level with Alex. "What do we have here?"

Alex stared up at him, searching his face for any signs that he may be up to no good, before she suddenly snorted out a laugh. That definitely caught him off guard as he leaned back on his heels, brows furrowed as he stared at what he was now thinking was an absolutely insane human.

Her laughter subsided into coughing once more as she leaned over her knees, still held tightly against her chest. "It's funny," she began, breathing somewhat normally again. "I've died twice now. And you've shown up after both. And I know for a fact that you're not involved, Mr. Red-Eyes. I could also just be delirious. Pretty sure I've still got a hell of a lot of carbon monoxide floating around in me."

"Well, you've certainly taken tanning to a whole new level," Crowley remarked as he recognized her underneath all of the soot.

Alex snickered at that, shaking her head. "You're much funnier than I recall," she said offhandedly, breaking into another fit of coughing.

Crowley didn't respond, instead he watched her closely. She was absolutely covered in filthy ash. And when his eyes wandered over to the blackened remains of the rest stop and back to her, one of his eyebrows raised with his curiosity. "So, kitten, what happened here?"

"Beelzebub showed up and he threw three wendigos at me and I forced myself to spontaneously combust. Now I'm alive again, but I think my lungs are covered in soot." She answered his question in a short spurt, which only made his interest in her grow more.

"Beelzebub, you said?" Crowley asked for clarification, a small idea forming in his head as she nodded. "And you, what? Created that fire? And you've died twice now?" When she nodded twice more his idea had slowly grown into a plan. A cunning, conniving plan that had him smiling already.

"Beelzebub killed me this time and Astaroth killed me last time," Alex shook her head, flakes of ash falling away from her matted hair. "You killing me next? 'Cause if you are, I'd appreciate something with more taste. Maybe some way that I'll come back and actually be wearing clothes."

So maybe Alex was taking this a little too calmly. Or she was in shock. She decided on the latter as she watched Crowley's eyes travel away from her face and to the silhouette of her nude form.

"Well," Crowley smiled again, putting a hand on her shoulder. Without warning Alex felt like she was being tugged in all different directions before it stopped and they were in a very fancy looking bathroom. If she had felt overwhelmed before it had nothing on this. "Why don't you go ahead and get cleaned up, kitten. I'll find some clothes for you."

"You're a demon," Alex spoke immediately, frowning up at him as she kept her legs closed around her tightly. It was a vain attempt to try and keep her modesty. "A crossroads demon. You're working on some sort of a hidden agenda."

Crowley shrugged, standing back up. "Well, kitten, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… You're in my house now." His voice had become borderline menacing at that, and his form towering over her just intensified it.

"So, wait," Alex frowned, glancing around and then back at him. "Did you just… you just kidnapped me."

"More like I've temporarily removed you from the outside world," Crowley amended for her, stepping around her and out of the door. "Clean yourself up. Try to escape and it won't be pretty."

Alex groaned as the door slammed shut and she heard a lock slide into place from the outside. Great. Out of the fire and into the frying pan, this time around. But at least she was through with coughing. And, honestly she was starting to become accustomed to this weird shit. So she stood and moved to the large shower in the corner, relishing in the relative safety of the room as she took her time cleaning up.

A solid thirty minutes later she heard the door open again and she tensed, using a not soapy hand to clear away steam so she could peek out.

"Just me," Crowley winked at her when he saw her looking, hanging up a small bag and a much larger bag on hooks by the door. "You're taking forever."

"I was covered in soot," Alex reminded him, rinsing off the rest of the lavender scented soap from her body. "I took my time cleaning it off. Sue me." She cut the water off, barely opening the door to peek out for a towel.

"Looking for this?" Crowley asked her, both eyebrows raised suggestively as he held the towel across the room.

"Seriously?" Alex asked him, groaning and rolling her eyes as she opened the door the rest of the way and ventured out to get the towel. She knew he was looking over her still wet body. She knew he was relishing in this. But considering the shit she'd been through in the past week she forced herself to care as little as possible about it. She yanked the towel out of his grip with a little more force than necessary, which elicited another grin from him.

"Oh, kitten, the things I would do to you," he winked, leaning up against the sink as he watched her dry off.

"Never going to happen," she enunciated clearly, glaring at him as she wrapped the towel around her and held it in place. "Why am I here, Red-Eyes?"

"Crowley," he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "My name is Crowley. And you're here because I brought you here. Or were you too out of your mind when that happened?"

"I remember that, smartass," Alex shook her head, growing annoyed with the situation now that she felt more like a person again. She moved over to the larger of the two bags he had brought it, unzipping it to reveal a very red dress. "I am not wearing this."

"What other choice do you have?" Crowley smirked, smug as he watched her move on to the smaller bag.

The smaller bag held very a provocative and lacey underwear set, the bra and panties matching. "Seriously?" she asked him, holding one up in the air. "You're a dick."

"Get dressed," he ordered her, moving off of the sink and towards the still open door. "We'll move on to more important matters afterwards."

"'More important' my ass," Alex grumbled after him, reluctantly letting the towel drop as she begrudgingly pulled on the underwear and dress he had gotten her. She felt like a two-bit demon whore as she brushed out her hair, tugging at the knots until they loosened out and formed loose curls. But it wasn't as important as figuring out why this Crowley had taken her in the first place, so she let it slide as she exited the bathroom.

She gazed around the room she entered and almost whistled at how rich it looked. She'd bet, based on the dimensions of this room alone, she was in some mansion right now. And this room was a bedroom. The bed had four posts and was a deep mahogany wood, and the blankets on it were a very soft looking satin in a hue of red that nearly matched the dress she had on. She was starting to get a feeling that this demon had a thing for red. Which probably included blood.


	8. Chapter 8: S01E05 Bloody Mary part 1

_Phew! Okay. I took the day off from posting yesterday, but here's the next installment. Slowly but surely wins the race, you know. But it'll start picking up pace pretty soon. Especially during this episode. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! And as always, if you're willing, leave me a review to let me know how I'm doing!_

* * *

"Well, that looks stunning," Crowley grinned, both of his eyebrows raised at her as he gave her an appreciative once-over from the desk he was seated at.

"Stop that," Alex chided, moving over to awkwardly sit in the seat across from him. "Let's just get to business, okay? Why am I here?"

"Because I know Beelzebub," Crowley leaned forward, his forearms resting on the desk. "And I know that little git Astaroth is never far behind him. But they haven't left Hell in eight hundred years. So my question is why now? What are they doing with you, kitten?"

Alex shrugged, crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat, watching the demon in front of her warily. What the hell had her life become in the past week that made something like sitting down and casually chatting with a demon seem tame? She had died twice, of course, but that hardly warranted her being so at ease conversing with a demon who had, for all intents and purposes, kidnapped her. "Your guess is as good as mine," she sighed, her barefoot catching most of her attention instead of looking at Crowley. "I didn't even know who they were. I met them; they did shit to me, and now I don't die anymore. Or, rather, I die. And I remember that part. But then there's a nice ol' blank spot up 'til the point I start breathing again."

"Any idea what they did to you?" Crowley sat back again, simply observing her. "Let me guess, no. Of course not. You're a moron." Her eyes snapped back up to glare at him before he continued, "Let me feel you in on a few things, then. Because I can help you. And you can help me. We can be mutually beneficial to each other."

"No. I already told you. I'm not making any deals with any demon," Alex reminded him, her conviction on the topic still strong. No matter what the hell was going on with her she refused to stoop that low.

"What if it isn't a deal for your soul?" Crowley's right eyebrow rose a little in a challenge, his brown eyes giving away his smugness. "I don't want your soul. I just want you to help me whenever I ask you to. For ten years, like normal. And, in turn, I'll help you. I'll tell you all I know about those two bastards. Hell, I'll even throw you a bone here and help you figure out what all you can actually do now."

Alex paused. Was she seriously considering taking a demon up on a deal? He definitely did seem to know a lot more about the other two than she did… And, being a demon, he would definitely know about any weird powers she had. Like how she had spontaneously combusted a few days ago. She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose when she realized it was a pretty decent deal. She'd not be losing her soul in it, and it sounded like she would come out ahead in the end. "I can't help but to feel like there's something you know that I don't," she finally uttered, locking eyes with him again. "But I'll agree on one condition."

"What makes you think you have any grounds to make conditions?" Crowley frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've already gotten a very good deal here, sweetheart."

"My condition," she continued, despite of his interruption, "Is that I'm not bound to your side. I can go and do whatever I please. And, right now, I want to see my brothers. So can you arrange that?"

Crowley narrowed his eyes at her, carefully weighing in what she had just requested. "Fine. But," he smirked a little, leaning forward again, "I get to mark you. That way you can't try to be a fool and hide from me."

Alex licked her lips, frowning slightly. It was stupid. She knew it was. But she needed more information. And he had it. "Okay. Deal."

With a grin Crowley stood up, moving around his desk to her. "I'm glad we could come to an agreement," he drawled, grabbing her wrist and roughly pulling her up and flush to his body. She struggled against him only to find his grip was too strong, instead choosing to glare up at him. "I always seal my deals with a kiss, kitten."

Alex groaned and rolled her eyes. "Seriously?" she asked him incredulously, shaking her head as he only responded with another quirk of his eyebrow. Of course, being pulled up against him like that was a bit of a turn on for her, but he was definitely a demon. And she would not screw a demon. With another aggravated huff she leaned up and towards him, pressing her lips gingerly against his.

Except he had other ideas in mind. He was more forceful, one hand on her lower back to hold her in place and the other on her neck. Crowley kissed her harshly, forcing her mouth open and exploring inside of it, his tongue pausing only slightly over hers. When he pulled away from her Alex was breathless, panting and staring up at him in anger.

"What the hell!" she tried to sound angry, but the airiness of her voice made it sound more like a sultry complaint. "What was that about?"

Crowley grinned down at her, still holding onto her as she slowly caught her breath. "I told you I was going to mark you," he reminded her, "And now I'm delivering you to your brothers."

* * *

Before Alex could voice any complaints or questions she felt herself being tugged in all directions again before it stopped, making her wobble slightly. She was alone this time, no Crowley in sight, but was still barefoot and in that stupidly revealing red dress. Angrily huffing again and mumbling something about how all demons could go to hell she turned around in a slow circle, trying to discern where she was. The only for sure thing was that the place was clinical. The cold tiles, which were making her feet freeze, and the too white walls paired with the fluorescent lights made her feel like it was some sort of a hospital.

And when she finally rested her eyes on the only door in sight, she knew she had been correct in her assumption. It was labeled 'nurse locker room'.

"At least the ass didn't poof me into the back of the Impala or something…" she quietly grumbled, slowly pushing the door open and listening for any signs of someone inside of the room. She could hear a shower going somewhere in the back, but otherwise the coast was clear. So, putting aside the fact that it would be technically stealing, she quickly went through the lockers until she found jeans, a shirt, and shoes that would fit her. The jeans were a darker blue that flared out at the leg instead of her usual skinny jean choice and the shoes were just some plain black sneakers, but they would do. It was the shirt that bothered her. It was a swoop neck styled shirt, the sleeves going to her elbows and the color an obnoxious pink. She had to continuously remind herself that it was better than the dress as she quickly got clothed. On her way back out she made a last second decision, nabbing a brown leather jacket off of one of the hooks on the walls and throwing it on.

Alex continued walking around, trying to figure out where she was while simultaneously avoiding anyone who might question where her clothes came from. After all, they had to belong to some of the nurses walking around. Crowley was an ass for just sending her somewhere like this without telling her where.

But then she heard two familiar, although not very, voices coming from the stairwell beside of her.

"Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing," she heard Sam say as their footsteps continued to plod down the stairs. Alex began to smile as she stood to wait at the bottom, crossing her arms over her chest.

"How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?" Dean asked him incredulously as they hit the landing above Alex, each of them lost to their own conversation and not noticing her.

"Pretty much never," Alex agreed with Dean, speaking up loud enough for them both to hear and turn to her in shock. She grinned up at them childishly, relishing in the simple fact of seeing them. They, at least, were normal. And in no way related to the weird going on with her lately.

"Alex?" Sam was the first to speak up, bounding down the remaining stairs two at a time. "Where have you been? We've tried calling you. We even went to Nashville once we saw about those fires. Are you okay?"

"There was a lot of sulfur on scene," Dean wasn't far behind Sam, although more cautious than him as they waited for her answer to Sam's questions and his silent inquiry.

And, in all honesty, she had no idea what to tell them. 'Oh, hey, I made a deal with a demon a few minutes ago because two other demons keep killing me and I keep popping back to life after'? There was no way she could tell them that. Even for them that was crazy.

Instead, she opted with the pitiful eyes that would always get Bobby to give her whatever she wanted. "Yeah," she spoke up quietly, glancing away from both of them. "I know there was a lot of sulfur. I got there not long after…"

Sam, ever the more emotional one between the brothers, took a step forward and awkwardly placed an arm around her. "Hey, it's okay," he quietly encouraged her, glancing to Dean. "Just tell us what happened."

"I'm not really sure," she sighed. It was at least partially true. She didn't know, yet, what Beelzebub and Astaroth wanted. "But it was demons. I've been tracking them, but my trail ran cold."

"Take a swig of this," Dean ordered her, holding a silver flask out to her. She knew he was just being cautious, but it still bothered her that he would think she was possessed. So she took it from him and took a large gulp of the contents. She was expecting it to just be holy water, but it was definitely more than that. If she had to guess it was moonshine or something equally as strong, and it had her cringing from the second it touched her tongue. And it… stung, a little. But it didn't smoke when it touched her tongue.

Seemingly satisfied with that, smirking at the fact the face she had made, Dean took the flask back and took a swig of it himself. "So, uh," he grunted out, pocketing the flask again. "You here for the case?"

Sam had backed off of her after she proved she wasn't a demon, and now both were watching her with interest. "Uh…" Alex stumbled, blinking several times and looking between them. So she could lie like a pro when it came to the demon stuff, but when it came to this? "I… yes?"

Dean snorted at her pitiful excuse for a lie, shaking his head derisively at her. "Smooth, sister."

Sam shook his head at his brother, staring down at her with both eyebrows raised. "If you're not here for the case, then why are you here?"

"Can a girl not want to visit her two obnoxious half-brothers after a traumatic experience in her life?" Alex tried her best to sound incredulous but failed, instead coming off as a bit more forlorn than she had meant. Her words had held a double meaning when she spoke them, not that her brothers would know. They just thought it was about the fact that the normal life she had built in Nashville had literally burned to the ground. They had no idea that the rest of her life was also crumbling around her, slowly becoming a messy pile of confusion and death.

Apparently, though, it still did the trick. Sam once again wrapped his arm around her and Dean glanced off to the side, obviously trying not to be an ass about it. As far as he was concerned having his little brother be in such a bad way was bad enough, but adding on the little sister he only recently found he had? Unfair. He had done a pretty bad job at keeping them both safe lately.

"So, uh, the case," Alex mumbled after several seconds of awkward silence had passed. "Any chance I could maybe get in on it? I'd kill for some normalcy right around now."

Sam shook his head and laughed through his nose a little, sarcastically remarking, "Yeah, sure. What does it say about our lives that we consider this to be normal?"

"That we're all seriously messed in the head," Dean responded, rolling his eyes as he watched the other Winchesters. "But alright. Yeah. You can trail along behind us if you want."

Alex perked up at the sarcastic challenge she had heard in his voice, catching his eyes and noticing the small glimmer of mischief in them. "If anyone is gonna be trailing behind it'd be you, slowpoke."

Sam snickered and stepped away from her, watching the scene unfold. Dean and Alex held each other's eyes for several more seconds until he took a step towards her and she took a step back. "You know, Alex, I do still owe you from that time in Jericho."

Alex nervously licked her lips and glanced to Sam, who didn't seem to be willing to help her. At least this was normal. They were still treating her as they had when they met her. And she still felt like she was accepted by them, although the trust and friendship was still growing. "If I beat you outside you have to drop it," she quickly spoke as she had to take another step away from him, holding her hands out in front of her. Hopefully he would take that challenge.

But Sam stepped in first as the voice of reason. "Guys, you'll have to settle this another time. We've gotta get this figured out, remember?" One set of green eyes and another of dark brown landed on Sam as he spoke, effectively making him nervous as he glanced between them. "Seriously. The funeral service is going on right now. We don't have time."

"Fine," Dean and Alex replied at the same time, glancing at each other. Maybe one day Dean would get her back. Or Alex would find a way to get out of it. But apparently not today.

Alex took the lead as they all moved towards the nearby exit, smiling a little to herself at the fact that she had gone so long without dying. Dying once was bad enough. Twice? Even worse. She seriously didn't want to die a third time.

But while she was trapped in her own thoughts, leading the three of them outside and towards the Impala, she missed the looks exchanged by her brothers. The silent conversation they had by just locking eyes with each other.

Because, little did she know, the boys _had_ gone to Nashville as soon as they learned about the fires; but they had found out about it just a day after it happened.


	9. Chapter 9: S01E05 Bloody Mary part 2

_Hey guys. Sorry about the shortness of this chapter. The next one will be longer. It'll finish up Bloody Mary. As always, read and review if you feel so kind. And hey, if there's anything in specific you'd like to see or any ideas, shoot 'em my way. I could use some help sometimes. Not all the time, but sometimes. Thanks!_

* * *

_(Flashback) _

_Sam and Dean carefully walked around the burned remains of what had once been a blooming business, each of them silent as they searched for clues._

_They had just seen her three days ago. Three days ago Dean had let her leave, just like he had let Sam leave. And three days ago both of his younger siblings had lost what they had built for themselves in the normal world. Dean's heart was heavy with the guilt at knowing he had let them both go on their own instead of keeping them with him. Together, even when it was just him and Sammy, they were strongest. He didn't know his sister too much, considering they had just spent a couple days together, but he knew her well enough to know they could've gotten closer with time._

_"Come on, man. The paper listed all of the dead. Alex wasn't on the list. She could still be out there," Sam's words were meant to be encouraging, but lately he had began to see little use in having hopes like that. Having his own squashed had been an unpleasant reminder of what their lives really were._

_Dean grunted an agreement, not really listening to him as he climbed back over some burnt wood. If he had just refused to let her go off like he had wanted her whereabouts would definitely still be known._

_"Dean!" Sam's sharp call pulled Dean out of his musing as he bound over to where Sam was crouched. Dean didn't get a chance to crouch beside him before Sam stood, rubbing a yellow substance in between his fingers together before smelling it and recoiling. "Sulfur."_

_"Demons did this?" Dean asked, incredulously, glancing around at the rubble. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"_

_"That the same bastard that killed Jess and our Mom is after Alex now?" Sam grumbled, wiping his hands off on his pants._

_Dean sharply nodded in response, trudging back to the Impala, Sam not far behind him. "We've gotta find Alex before they do."_

_"Let's head to the morgue and check out the vics. We've just gotta treat this like a case for now."_

_Sam's words had made sense at the time, but they had both regretted it half an hour later._

_They had gone through their usual routine and had given the fire vics a once-over, but found nothing out of the ordinary. They had all died from smoke inhalation or the flames themselves. They were about to leave when Sam noticed another file laying on the mortician's desk. It was labeled 'Colt, Alexandria'._

_He opened it out of curiosity more than anything else, but promptly dropped it when he saw the photo clipped to the top right corner. His movements had garnered Dean's attention, who reached over and snatched away the file as Sam moved to the row of doors on the wall that had the bodies in it. By then Dean had already caught up to him, and they both pulled the sliding metal out to reveal the same person they had been looking for._

_"Damn it!" was Dean's reaction, his body violently swinging away from the gurney holding the very dead Alex._

_Sam wasn't much better, but he was more collected and went back to get the file. When he got to the cause of death section he found it wildly hard to believe. "Says here she died from a heart attack. At her age? No way."_

_"So the demon killed her," Dean pointed out, still frowning as he stared down at her._

_"Yeah." Was all Sam could say._

_(End flashback)_

* * *

Fifteen minutes later and one semi-awkward ride in the Impala, the three Winchesters were casually walking into the funeral of a man they didn't know. And every single person was dressed in their best black attire.

"Feel like we're underdressed," Dean muttered to Sam and Alex, both of whom nodded in agreement.

"So did anyone witness the murder?" Alex asked them quietly as they walked towards the back of the house, glancing around nervously. She felt awkward being at a funeral. She could practically taste the death looming in the air.

"Not that we know," Sam glanced at her, trying to covertly watch her actions. He and Dean hadn't had a chance to discuss whatever this was, but he knew his brother had to be just as wary as he was. "The oldest daughter apparently found the body though."

"And his eyes seriously were just gone?" she asked, glancing up at him and trying to keep her tone down. There were, after all, grieving family and friends around.

"Yeah, just a lot of blood left," he grimly nodded, looking away from her again as they exited the back of the house. Dean hadn't spoken up since they first came in, but now he spoke up to ask a man where the deceased's daughters were.

Donna and Lily Shoemaker were standing off to the side with their friends, Jill and Charlie. They were obviously still upset and trying to come to accept with what had happened.

"You must be Donna, right?" Dean asked as they approached, trying his best to be suave and not an overbearing flirt.

"Yeah," Donna hesitated, glancing over the three people in front of her.

"Hi, uh, we're really sorry," Sam stumbled out, stepping forward to lamely shake her hand.

"Thank you," Donna told them, although it sounded like her patience had worn thin with having to thank every for their condolences that day.

"I'm Sam, this is Dean and Alex," Sam pointed to himself and then to his brother and sister, "We worked with your Dad."

Donna glanced at her friend Charlie before looking back at them. "You did?"

"Yeah," Alex spoke up, trying her best to frown and at least appear saddened for their loss. "This whole thing. The stroke, I mean. It's tragic."

Donna's friend Charlie stepped up at this point, giving the siblings a sharp look. "I don't think she wants to talk about this right now."

"I'm okay. I'm okay," Donna gently laid a hand on the shoulder of her friend, offering a small smile to try and prove her point.

"Were there any symptoms before he had the stroke?" Dean asked seriously, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watched the girls. "Dizziness? Migraines?"

"No," Donna answered succinctly, wrapping her arms around her torso.

That's when the younger daughter, Lily, turned to them and spoke up. "That's because it wasn't a stroke," she said quietly, grief stricken on her face.

"What?" Alex asked her, bending slightly to be at eye level with Lily, both of her brothers also trying to give the kid more of their attention.

"I'm sorry," Donna was quick to speak, wrapping her arms around her sister's shoulders. "She's just upset."

"No," Lily disagreed fervently, shaking her head, "It happened because of me."

"Sweetie, it didn't," her sister tried to console her quickly, obviously at a loss of what to do about her sister thinking she caused their father's death.

Sam moved next to Alex and also leaned over more to be on Lily's eye level, putting on his very serious and very approachable puppy dog face. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Right before he died," Lily paused, glancing at her sister and then back to Sam and Alex. "I said it."

"You said what?" Alex asked her, reaching forward to gently place a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror," Lily paused after she said that, tears welling up in her eyes. "She took his eyes. That's what she does."

"That couldn't be why your Dad died," Alex was quick to comfort her, giving her shoulder a light squeeze before pulling away. "It isn't your fault."

"She's right," Sam supplied, backing up his sister. "There's no way it could've been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?"

"No. I don't think so," Lily responded quietly, and Sam nodded at her and stood back up. Alex gave her a final encouraging smile before standing up after her brother.

The three Winchesters turned back towards the house, ambling in to go look for any clues as to what could've killed Steven Shoemaker.

"Okay, uh, Alex," Dean spoke up as they stepped inside, staring down at her and crossing his arms authoritatively, "You look around down here for anything weird. We're going to go check out the scene."

Alex raised an eyebrow at him curiously, wondering why he would ever let her go off on her own when they had an unknown killer around. "Okay, sure," she half-nodded, glancing from him to Sam. Sam wasn't looking at her. "Sounds good."

Both of the boys tried to nonchalantly walk off, as if they hadn't just been acting completely weird for them. At least, from what she knew.

* * *

"Okay, first of all," Sam started as he and Dean climbed the stairs in the Shoemaker house, going to the bathroom where Steven apparently died. "What the hell, man. Seriously. Alex?"

"I know," Dean sighed, rubbing a hand wearily over his face. "I'm just as freaked as you. But she drank some holy water and that flask is silver; it would've burned her if she was a shifter. She passed the tests."

"She was _dead_, Dean," Sam pointed out, glancing around the modernly decorated hallway they were traversing. "We both saw her. How can she be here?"

"Look, I dunno," Dean snapped at him, throwing a glare in Sam's direction. "What I do know is she's here now. And there ain't no way in hell she's leaving again."

Sam agreed with that, stiffly nodding as he pushed open the door to the bathroom, still lightly caked in blood.

* * *

After finding nadda in her exploration of the downstairs of the house Alex had gone out to wait in the Impala, the actions of her brothers weighing heavily on her mind. They weren't acting the same as they had back in Jericho with the lady in white case. And it hadn't really been that long for something too tragic to have happened. Sam's girlfriend apparently burned like their mother, she recalled Dean telling her that over the phone not long before she fell asleep and melt Beelzebub on that bus. But that wouldn't make them both be so weird. Would it?

She didn't have time to dwell on it much longer as she saw both of her brothers coming out of the house and towards the Impala, causing her to smile at them. Whatever. Even if they were acting weird, it was still better to her than what had become her normal company in the past week. "Find anything?"

"Nope," Dean spoke up first, plopping down into the drivers seat. "You know any real backing to the Bloody Mary theory?"

"Just thought it was a kid's game," Alex frowned at him when she caught his eyes watching her in the rearview mirror. "Why?"

"Just wondering," Sam covered for him, turning around in his seat to smile at her. "We're thinking maybe there's something to it. Maybe this is the town where the legend started."

Dean threw a pointed glance at Sam as he pulled away from the curb they were parked at, clearly trying to remind him of the conversation they had before leaving the house about _not_ telling the sister they thought was dead everything about the case.

"Could be," Alex smiled lightly back at him, glancing between him and Dean. She'd have to be blind to miss the way they had been acting around her. "But there would have to have been someone die nasty in this town sometime in its past. Time to hit up the library?"

"Yeah, that's where we're headed to now," Sam turned back around in his seat, glancing at Dean with a frown playing across his lips.

An uneasy silence spread over the Impala, one all three of the Winchesters found to be awkward. It was a complete change from what it had been before. The boys were trying to keep it to themselves that they had seen her dead. Alex was trying to keep it away from them that she had not only been attacked by two different demons, who had also done_ something_ to her, but had entered a deal with a third one.

And so, the lies and secrets began to drive a rift between what little familiar solidarity they had with each other. First their Dad, then Sam, now Alex, and Dean was left to silently brood over all of it.


	10. Chapter 10: S01E05 Bloody Mary part 3

_Hey guys! Looks like Bloody Mary is stretching out into 4 parts. Oh well. I'm doing my best to ensure the story still flows like it should even though Alex is hanging around with them for it. I've also been tossing around an idea in my head for a few hours about a special chapter for Easter, which is upcoming. But don't get your hopes up too high. I'll ask here before I write it. The plot is basically the one time the Winchesters actually met each other when they were younger, although obviously all three of them have forgotten it, in which Bobby tricked John and eventually there's an Easter egg hunt involved. Is that too sappy? It might be. That's why I'm asking if I should write it before I do. _

_So, as always, review if you're willing. All of you have been so kind in your reviews, so I want to thank some of you again. _

**_snn7b- _**_Thanks for your continued support! _

**_Guest-_**_ I can only assume it's still the same one (if not please correct me!), so thanks for continuing to support the story. I'm glad you're excited for more. :)_

_**iluv2read5898-**I'm glad to hear you like that I didn't make the boys freak out over a sister. That's exactly why I chose to start at the very beginning. It gave the opportunity to work with the two of them before they become scarred from all that happens to them and world-weary. They have no reason to be so suspicious over it, especially if John Winchester doesn't deny it!_

_**BrySt1- **Yes, the boys do know that she was dead, at least once. :) But Bobby and John still think she's just dead. I like to be evil and cause drama._

**_kimmer__ kins- _**_:) I'm glad you think my fanfic is the most awesome you've read in a long time. That means a lot to me!_

**_Mayrem-_**_ I've been excited to bring the boys back in for a while now. I'm sorry to inform though that after this they may not be in it as often as we'd like. :( At least not for season 01. I've got to work on Alex's plot some, after all. _

_Again, thanks to everyone who's been reviewing and even those who haven't been! I'm just honored that all of you are reading. :) I'll shut up now so you can enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

After an agonizingly quiet car ride to the library, the three Winchester children were once again talking to each other.

"All right," Dean spoke up, looking between Sam and Alex, who were walking in front of him. "Say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof."

"Like a local woman who died nasty?" Alex supplied, smiling when Dean nodded his agreement.

"Yeah," Sam butted in, opening the doors as they walked into the library was relatively dark considering the time of day, but it didn't deter them away from their intended path. "But with a legend this widespread it's hard. I mean, there are like 50 versions of who she actually is. One story says a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride, there's a lot more."

"Alright so what are we supposed to be looking for?" Dean crossed his arms and focused on Sam. After all, Sam was more of the brains and Dean the brawns.

"Something in common in all the stories?" Alex asked, taking Dean's side. She could definitely research things and learn about what she needed to know, but Sam actually seemed to enjoy it.

"Exactly," Sam smiled briefly at her, "It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers-public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill."

"Well that sounds annoying," Dean grumbled, glancing to see if Alex agreed with him. She only shrugged.

"No, it won't be so bad as long as we…" Sam trailed off as he looked at the computers in the library, chuckling wryly as he saw the out of order signs on them. "I take it back. This will be very annoying."

"Wunderbar," Alex groaned, following Sam as they moved on from the computers to a room that held paper copies of everything they were going to look up. Dean was in a similar state of mind to her, and even Sam seemed to be dreading the next few hours.

"Vun-der-bar?" Dean slowly repeated, pulling out a chair at a table and falling into it, throwing his feet up onto the table.

"It's German," she supplied, moving over to where Sam was digging out books and folders and taking a load of them off of his hands before going back over to the table Dean was at and sitting down. "Means wonderful or something. Aren't you going to get any reading material?"

Sam snorted as he sat a couple of seats from Alex, spreading out his own papers and folders. "Yeah, sure, Dean. You gonna read anything today?"

"Nope," Dean gave them both a shit-eating grin as he leaned the chair back on two legs.

Half an hour later they had moved from the library to the boys' motel room, choosing comfort over fluorescent lights and hard chairs. Sam was on one of the beds, slowly starting to doze off. Dean and Alex were sat opposite of each other at a small wooden table nearer to the door.

Alex was still flipping through papers when she heard a light snore from the bed, earning her attention and a raised eyebrow.

"Let him sleep," Dean quietly spoke up, having looked when she did. "He needs it."

"Why?" she asked, also keeping her voice down. "What's been going on with you guys?"

Dean shrugged, pulling over a folder and opening it to begin searching for some kind of a clue to what they were dealing with. "Nothing much. I told you about what happened to his girlfriend."

"Yeah," Alex frowned, returning to the papers she had in front of her. She hadn't actually thought much about that since Dean told her after it happened. But she could sympathize with Sam. It was tough to lose a life you were building, especially when it was a normal one. Actually… She hadn't given her old life much though, either. But now that she was thinking about it she found herself surprised. She wasn't actually that sad about it. Of course, it had been upsetting at the time. But so much had happened in such a short amount of time that she found herself actually prioritizing the craziness. And mourning was further down on her list than trying not to die again. The highest was probably figuring out who Beelzebub and Astaroth actually were, other than demons. And then why they were tormenting her. And then figuring a way out of having to help that other demon, Crowley. And then…

She was broken out of her abstraction by Dean waving a hand over the paper she was blankly staring at, trying to get her attention.

"Hello, earth to Alex," he remarked sarcastically, pulling his hand back when she looked up at him. "Thought you slept with your eyes open there for a minute. That'd be creepy."

She rolled her eyes, pulling another page over the one she had been looking at, considering it had no leads. "Do you ever make good jokes?"

"I think I'm hilarious," Dean scoffed, throwing a folder onto the floor behind him and grabbing another. "So what's been going on with you?"

"Sam's taking Jessica's death pretty hard, isn't he?" Alex asked instead of answering him, trying to reroute the conversation onto their younger brother.

Dean frowned at her, knowing she was avoiding the question, but answered anyway. "Yeah. I think he blames himself for it for some stupid reason."

"Survivor's guilt, probably," she pointed out, switching to a new folder. "He probably thinks it should've been him to die instead of her."

"Well he's stupid and not thinking with his right mind," Dean grumbled, turning the page he was on more forcefully than was necessary. "What about you, then? Any of this 'survivor's guilt' going on with you?"

Alex opened her mouth to make a sarcastic comment about how she couldn't exactly experience survivor's guilt considering she had actually died, but the words died on her tongue before she could speak them. Dean was watching her expectantly, though, so she just shrugged and broke eye contact with him. "I'm just more annoyed that I don't have any of my clothes and stuff anymore."

Dean was giving her a look she couldn't quite understand, but she was relieved when he just shrugged and turned back to the folder in his hands. "Why not get more?"

"I don't exactly have my credit cards or anything, considering they burned too," she pointed out, hoping it was a believable story. They had burned. Just not in Nashville. They had burned along with the clothes she had been wearing back at that rest stop.

"So where'd you get those?" Dean was quick on the draw today, pointing out weaker points in the story she was spinning like it was just a normal conversation.

"Stole them from a laundromat." It wasn't exactly a lie. And it wasn't exactly the truth.

She could tell Dean was still suspicious about what she had said. She had no idea why he would be, though. Had he expected her and Sam to be acting similarly considering what had happened to them? She and Sam were two different people. From the short amount of time the siblings had spent together it was obvious that Alex and Dean were more similar than Alex and Sam. And she had a feeling Dean would rather bottle it up and not speak the truth about it just like she was.

She had expected more questions to be fired at her, but was instead met with silence. Dean apparently knew when to leave a topic alone.

But, in reality, he was carefully thinking over everything she had told them since she showed up.

After another hour of silence, broken only by either Dean's frustrated huffs or the quiet rustle of papers, Sam jolted awake on the bed.

He looked over at Dean and Alex, both of whom were watching him curiously. "Why'd you let me fall asleep?" he asked seriously, although with the tired and semi-out of breath edge in his voice it was hard to take it out he meant it.

"Because I'm an awesome brother," Dean rolled his eyes, glancing to Alex and then back to Sam. "So what did you dream about?"

"Lollipops and candy canes," Sam grumbled, running his hands over his face as he stretched out his long legs.

"Yeah, sure," Dean frowned, but didn't push him any further, like he had with Alex.

"Did you find anything?" Sam questioned them, looking over at them from his position on the bed.

"Oh besides a whole new level of frustration?" Dean huffed again, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs.

"We've looked at everything," Alex added in, rolling her eyes when Dean let out another overly dramatic sigh. "Some local women, a Laura and a Catherine, committed suicide in front of mirrors."

"A giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave," Dean leaned forward again, his brows furrowed as he thought about how fruitless their research had been. "But uh, no Mary."

Sam groaned, falling back onto the bed not long after he sat up. "Maybe we just haven't found it yet."

"Doubtful," Alex mumbled as Sam's phone rang. She and Dean watched silently as Sam sat back up, concern lining his features as he listened to what was being said on the other side of the call.

* * *

Twenty minutes later they were sneaking into the bedroom of the most recent victim. The phone call to Sam had been from Charlie, one of the Shoemaker's friends. She had called in hysterics to tell them that her friend Jill had died. And when they met her at the park the situation had come more into light on how it was related. Apparently Jill had said you-know-what three times in a mirror. And then they found her body with no eyes in it in her bathroom floor.

"What'd you tell Jill's mom?" Sam asked as he tugged something out of the bag around his shoulders, Dean and Alex moving to pull the curtains together in the room to shut out the light.

"Just that I needed some alone time with Jill's pictures and things. I hate lying to her," Charlie had her arms tucked securely around herself, frowning as she watched the siblings working.

"Don't worry," Alex tried to console her, lightly patting her arm as she passed by her, moving to the light switch. "This is for the greater good."

"Hit the lights," Dean ordered and Alex switched them off. Alex then moved to stand by Charlie, figuring the girl needed someone nearer to her considering what all she had been through.

"What are you guys looking for?" Charlie asked with trepidation watching as Sam and Dean played around with a camera.

"We'll let you know as soon as we find it," Dean told her, flipping the night-vision on the camera as Sam pointed it out. Dean then grinned into the camera, because it was pointed at him. "Do I look like Paris Hilton?"

Sam rolled his eyes and took the camera, walking away to the closet door to film around the mirror. Alex was also miffed by Dean's ongoing obsession with making bad jokes. "You look more like a primadonna to me," she murmured, causing Sam to laugh lightly through his nose and Dean to throw his hands up exasperatedly.

"No one gets me like I get me," Dean grumbled as he moved to look through some stuff on the deceased teenager's desk.

"Anyway," Sam began, drawing the attention away from Dean, "I don't get it. The first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?"

"Beats me," Dean shrugged, watching as Sam moved from the closet towards the bathroom. "I want to know why Jill said it in the first place."

"It was just a joke," Charlie spoke up quietly, reminding the trio that she was still in the room.

"Bad joke, then," Alex told her, glancing at her and then back at Sam and Dean.

"Yeah, well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time." Dean sounded completely sure of that, adding just a hint of moroseness to the situation.

"Hey," Sam called from the bathroom, getting the attentions of Dean, Alex, and Charlie. "There's a black light in the trunk, right?"

Dean left to get the black light as Alex moved to take the camera from Sam, allowing him two hands free to move the mirror to the bed in the room. He was laying it face down as Dean came back in and tossed the black light to him. Sam peeled the brown paper off of the back of the mirror before shining the black light over it, illuminating a hand print and the words 'Gary Bryman' written on it.

"Gary Bryman?" Charlie asked out loud, prompting Sam to turn to her.

"You know who that is?" he asked her, turning the black light off and standing up straight.

"No," she shook her head, causing Alex to roll her eyes. At least this time Sam would be awake to do the research on the name.

* * *

Dean, Alex, and Charlie were once again sat on a bench outside, not really talking to each other as Sam approached them from behind.

"So, Gary Bryman," he began, glancing between the three on the bench before continuing, "He was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver."

"Oh my God," Charlie gasped, a hand moving to cover her mouth. "Jill drove that car."

Dean and Alex glanced at each other, nodding only slightly as they both came to the same conclusion. "We need to get back to your friend Donna's house."

Not long later they had discovered another hand print on the back of the mirror from the bathroom of the Shoemaker's house, where the first victim had died. The name Linda Shoemaker had been written beneath it.

Although Donna Shoemaker had denied it, they all felt pretty safe in assuming Steven Shoemaker had killed his wife.

So now Dean was typing on a computer and Sam was looking over a bulletin board back in their room. Alex was watching them both from the bed she had sprawled out over.

"Wait, wait, wait," Sam spoke up, breaking the silence that had begun to lull Alex to sleep. "You're doing a nationwide search?"

"Yep," Dean nodded, continuing his searching, "The NCIC, the FBI database-at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me."

"But if she's haunting the town then she should have died in this town," Sam frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm telling you," Dean frowned, obviously tired of having to go over it again. "There's nothing local. We've checked. So unless you've got a better idea-"

Alex cut him off before the boys could start to argue, rolling onto her side to face them. "Seems like there's a pattern here, in the way she kills."

Dean and Sam both looked at her before back at each other and away again, the former of them shrugging.

"I was thinking the same thing," Dean spoke up, leaning back in his seat. "Both had secrets where people died."

"Right," Sam nodded, idly walking back towards the bulletin board before pacing back towards Dean a little. "I mean, there's a lot of folklore about mirrors-that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets, that they're a true reflection of your soul, which is why it's bad luck to break them."

"Right, right," Dean responded, clicking on the computer again as he listened to Sam. "So maybe if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it."

"Whether you're the one who summoned her or not," Sam added in as an afterthought, the MO of the spirit suddenly making more sense to all of them.

"Take a look at this," Dean moved slightly so Sam could lean over and look at what was on the screen. Alex could barely see a few photos of what looked like a crime scene from where she was laying.

"Looks like the same handprint,"Sam pointed out, suddenly becoming much more interested as the case felt like it was coming together at last.

"Her name was Mary Worthington, an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana," Dean informed them as he stood from his seat, moving over to where his gun was and placing it back in his belt.

"Looks like we're going to Indiana," Sam had followed Dean's example, also picking up some of his more important items to take with them.

Alex had closed her eyes after failing to get a good look at the pictures on the computer from where she sat, a yawn breaking out of her uncontrollably. She missed the look the boys shared, but definitely did not miss it when she suddenly felt one of her shoes being tugged off. She sat up quickly with an indignant noise, frowning at Dean as he tossed her shoe over his shoulder. "What the hell, Dean?"

"When's the last time you slept?" Sam asked as Dean grabbed the ankle of her other leg before she could pull it away and tugged that shoe off and threw it over with the other one.

Alex's face changed from one of indignation and confusion to thoughtful as she considered that question. When had she slept last? On that bus before the stuff with Beelzebub? That was over a week ago. Did they count being dead as sleep? "I'm fine," she answered instead, throwing her feet over the side of the bed. "I'm going with you two."

"It's pretty obvious you've been running on fumes for the past few hours," Sam pointed out to her, crossing his arms and standing beside of Dean. Together they made an impressive wall of muscle and thickheadedness. "We're just going to Indiana to question the local police. It's a cut and dry job. You can afford to stay behind and sleep."

Alex looked to Dean for help, but when he only shrugged she groaned and turned back to Sam, "I'm fine, Sam. I'm coming with you two."

"Answer the question first," Dean spoke up, glancing at Sam and then back to Alex. "When's the last time you slept?"

Alex groaned again, falling back onto the bed in her exasperation. "Over a week ago. Fine. Whatever. Just go. I'll stay here and do some more research."

Satisfied with that answer Sam moved on to the door, walking out and into the Impala. Dean lingered behind for a few seconds. "Hey," he spoke up, causing her to glare at him from where she was laying. "Get some sleep. I know you said you've been hunting demons or whatever, so you know you can't afford to exhaust yourself. And don't leave the room while we're gone."

Alex sighed as she watched the door shut behind Dean as he left, absentmindedly rubbing a light circle over the mark on her left wrist. He was right. She knew he was. He was a sarcastic ass most of the time, but he was still in the right on this. So she took her brother's advice and fell into a dreamless sleep not long after she heard the roar of the Impala's engine rumble away.


	11. Chapter 11: S01E05 Bloody Mary part 4

_Hey guys! I hope you like this chapter. It's the end of Bloody Mary and the beginning of our next just Alex chapter. As always, review if you're feeling especially kind or see something that doesn't make sense. Thanks!_

* * *

Less than forty-five minutes after the boys had left towards Fort Wayne Alex found herself being startled awake, gasping for air as if she hadn't been able to breathe. Her eyes were wide as she shuddered, slowly evening out her breaths and relaxing on the bed again. She blinked several times when she realized she hadn't shut her eyes yet, letting out a slow breath of air.

"Well, that was exciting," an unfortunately familiar Scottish accent spoke up, causing Alex to groan and sit up in the bed to look in the direction of the voice. Crowley stood there, smiling as smugly as ever in his black suit.

"It's too much nothingness for me to enjoy it," Alex frowned, wrapping her arms around herself. "It's too similar to how it was when I was dead. So why are you here? I'm not done with my brothers yet."

"Oh, I know," he winked at her, throwing a mid-sized duffel bag at her. "I keep an eye on my assets. Interesting little haunting you've got going on."

"I like it better when you don't talk," Alex grumbled, catching the bag and zipping it open. She was surprised to find a cell phone on the top of the contents of the bag, taking it out and examining it a little before sitting it beside of her on the bed. The next thing she found was a black credit card with the name Alexandria McLeod on it. She raised an eyebrow at the curious choice of name before looking at what was in the bottom of the bag. Her face scrunched when she recognized the familiar red satin of that God-awful dress he had given her before.

"I did some digging about you, kitten," Crowley had been observing her reactions closely, smirking when she got to the dress. "Alexandria Gabriella Winchester. Daughter of John Winchester, sister to Sam and Dean Winchester. Great-great-granddaughter of Samuel Colt, on your mother's side. Quite the namesake."

"So what's with this name?" Alex chose to ask about the credit card instead, ignoring the fact that the demon she had made a deal with now knew so much about her. "McLeod? What is that, Scottish? Do I look Scottish to you?"

"Not at all," Crowley ensured her, rolling his eyes. "The card is for any expenses. The phone makes it easier to contact you."

Alex took this opportunity to look up at him with a raised eyebrow, completely incredulous of this whole ordeal. "Why, exactly, are you going through all of this trouble?"

"I told you, kitten," Crowley drawled out again, obviously teetering on the edge of his patience for the day. "I did some digging on you. And I know who you are. And more importantly, I know what you are."

"Which is what?" Alex asked him quickly, sitting aside the bag and standing up. He had found something out, and she needed to know.

"Not important," he shrugged it off, watching her deflate and then puff back up in anger. Before she could yell at him about their deal he had rolled his eyes and held his hand up to silence her. "Kidding, kitten. I just like to see you all riled up. Those two idiots, Beelzebub and Astaroth, they marked you, yeah? You've got their hickies right there on your wrists." Alex glanced down at where she could barely see them poking out from under her sleeves before looking back at Crowley, noticing he had done the same thing. "Parts 1 and 2 of this little thing we like to call the _Un_holy Trinity."

"The **Un**holy Trinity?" Alex repeated uncertainly, her eyes narrowed as she thought of what he said. "You realize you sound like an insane pretentious ass, right?"

"Sticks and stones, love," Crowley was scowling at her now, "Do try and not let all of your things burn again."

"No, wait," Alex began, only to see him disappear from in front of her. "What an absolute ass. Shows up, throws toys at me, gives me just enough information to be curious, and then just leaves? What a self-righteous pain in the ass."

But she was pretty thankful for the credit card. And even though Dean had specifically said for her to not leave the motel… Well, she was in dire need of some new clothes. And she didn't intend to chant Bloody Mary in any mirrors.

An hour and a half later, two hours since the boys had originally left, Alex was back safely in the motel room she had left. She hadn't actually bought much other than a black zip-up hoodie, three pairs of jeans, a few shirts, underwear, and new boots to replace her old ones, but it had done wonders for her mood. Retail therapy actually worked. Who knew?

So after sliding into a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a red t-shirt she settled down into the chair in front of Sam's laptop, tying her hair back into a ponytail with one of her newly bought elastic ties. She felt much better than she had before. Her new clothes gave her some sort of normalcy because of how similar they were to what she had always worn. The hoodie was newer for her, but it was mostly for the sleeves to hide her wrists when her brothers were around. They weren't stupid; she knew they'd know there was some sort of meaning behind those marks and she'd be hard pressed to pass them off as tattoos to them.

But for now she was just satisfied with researching this 'Unholy Trinity' that Crowley had told her about. She was utterly confused by what she found. The Unholy Trinity was supposedly mentioned in the Book of Revelations. But it was comprised of three different entities. It said nothing about a single human being marked or anything akin to that. The Unholy Trinity was supposedly Satan, the Antichrist, and the False Prophet. And as far as she knew, she was none of those things. So she was seriously flummoxed.

In the midst of her confusion she was surprised to find that another hour had passed. And even more surprised when her brothers came bursting through the door of the motel room and were each covering up any and everything with a mirror or reflective surface.

"Guys, what the hell?" Alex asked as she stood up quickly, shutting Sam's laptop once she realized it also had a reflective surface. "What's going on?" She looked from them to the door of the room, where a very distraught looking Charlie stood with her hands pressed firmly over her eyes.

Dean was the first to tell her. "Mary's after her," he spurted as he rushed past where Alex stood, tugging a picture frame off of the wall and turning it to where the glass wasn't showing. He slowed when he ran past Alex the second time. "Where the hell did you get those clothes? No. Nevermind. We'll talk about it later."

It was actually almost amusing to watch her brothers as they ran around as something akin to chickens with their heads cut off. But they were very thorough and if she hadn't felt like she'd only be in the way she would've helped.

Finally, less than five minutes later, the boys had moved Charlie from the door to the bed. The girl had her knees pulled up to her chest and her head buried in them, shaking in both her fear and guilt.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Sam spoke to her calmly, trying to sound both confident and reassuring despite having been running around like crazy not long ago. "You can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?" Charlie slowly looked up at him, as if she were expecting Bloody Mary to pop out at any time. "Now listen," he was still being gentle with her, much better than either Dean or Alex could have been. "You're gonna stay on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you."

"But I can't keep that up forever," Charlie spoke quietly, utterly devastated. "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

"No. No," Sam said with fervor, frowning at her with his most serious puppy dog eyes. "Not anytime soon."

Alex could definitely relate to how Charlie felt about being faced with her own mortality. Except Alex was pretty sure if she died on this case she'd just wake up a few days later. Charlie wouldn't.

Dean sat on the bed with Charlie, tugging Alex's new and unattended duffel bag to him from its place on the bed and digging through it while he spoke. Alex frowned at his actions but didn't go to stop him, knowing it would only cause problems and wasn't their most important one at the time. "Alright, Charlie," Dean spoke up to her, sitting the bag aside when he found it was only packed with Alex's new clothes. "We need to know what happened."

"We were in the bathroom," Charlie told them all, hugging her arms around herself as she frowned. "Donna said it."

"That's not what we're talking about," Dean got straight to the point, glancing from Sam to Alex. "Something happened, didn't it? In your life… a secret… where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?"

"I had this boyfriend. I loved him," Charlie sniffed loudly, tears edging in her eyes, "But he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just… I didn't believe him, you know? I should have." She dropped her head back into her knees, crying again as she thought about what had happened.

Alex was glad she had never tried out a real relationship after hearing that. Sure, she had her fair share of flings, but never something that deep. It had always sounded like a horror story that was even worse than the things she spent her life hunting.

"All right, c'mon," Dean ordered Sam and Alex, standing and moving to the door. "We're gonna go gank this bitch."

Alex grabbed her hoodie from the bed and slipped it on before she followed them, belatedly realizing she should have done that from the beginning. But the boys were both too preoccupied to have noticed much more than her new attire.

The three of them were on their way to the shop that apparently had Mary's mirror for sale, driving through the rain. Alex was quiet in the middle of the backseat, absentmindedly rubbing light circles over her left wrist through the material of her jacket. Sam and Dean were similarly quiet in the front, until Dean finally spoke up.

"You know, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault," he pointed out, glancing to Sam and then in the mirror at Alex, both of whom were giving him their attention now.

"She's a spirit," Alex reminded him, shrugging. "They don't really see in shades of gray. Mary saw a secret where someone died and it was good enough for her."

"I guess," Dean muttered, frowning and repositioning his hands on the steering wheel.

"You know, I've been thinking," Sam told them, turning slightly in his seat so that he could see both of them as he spoke. "It might not be enough to just smash that mirror."

"Why? What do you mean?" Dean was obviously suspicious, glancing at Sam as he continued driving.

"Well, Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever?" Sam had a point, no matter how much Dean didn't like the direction it was going. "So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it."

"How do you know that'll work?" Alex asked him, leaning forward and resting her arms on the back of the front seat.

"I don't," Sam shrugged, "Not for sure."

"Who'd summon her?" she questioned again, interested in hearing this plan out. It did make a certain amount of sense.

"I will," he replied matter-of-factly, "She'll come after me."

"You know what? That's it!" Dean suddenly pulled the car over on the side of the road, Alex gripped tightly to the seat to make sure she didn't slide out of it. Sam had turned his attention to Dean and watched him warily. "This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you. Now listen to me—It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place."

Alex grimaced at the new personal tone the argument in the car had taken, leaning back into her seat and tugging the new phone from Crowley out of her pocket to fiddle with it. It figured that the only contact in it was Crowley himself with a stupid winking face emoticon after it.

"I don't blame you," Sam told Dean calmly, frowning at him.

Dean glanced in the backseat at Alex and then to her phone before back at Sam, wishing she would offer some sort of backup for him. This was a stupid plan. "Well, you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done."

"I could've warned her," Sam's tone was remorseful, making Alex glance up from inputting their Dad as a contact into her phone. She felt absolutely out of place for this whole conversation.

"About what?" Dean demanded, glaring at him. "You didn't know what was going to happen! And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway."

"No. You don't." Sam was looking away from Dean now.

"I don't what?" Dean asked him carefully.

"You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything." Sam looked back at him, adamant with his point.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked him suspiciously, the curves of his lips trailing downwards.

"Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?" Sam pointed out smugly, a small undertone of relief in knowing he'd not have to tell Dean about it because of that.

Dean was legitimately surprised, looking from Sam to Alex. "No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it."

"Dean, that girl back there is gonna die unless we do something about it," Sam pointed out, "And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this."

"And you're just gonna sit back there and say nothing?" Dean asked Alex incredulously, glaring at her.

Alex frowned and shrugged, glancing at Sam, who was watching her with a hopeful look in his eyes. She was really disliking being made into the third party who made a decision and put the argument into a 2 v. 1 situation. "Sam's plan is the best we've got," she finally told them, shutting her phone closed and putting it into her jacket pocket. "It's risky, but necessary."

Dean groaned and slammed his hands back onto the steering wheel, putting the car into drive and speeding off to the shop that had Mary's mirror in it.

"Thanks," Sam smiled at Alex a little, relieved that she had taken his side in the argument. He had been afraid she would be gung-ho against it like Dean was, considering she was also technically his older sister. But at least she knew when to put it aside and do what was right for more people.

Less than five minutes later, thanks to Dean's reckless speeding, they were all stood around the front of the shop that had apparently bought Mary's mirror not long ago. Sam had picked the lock and they all moved in to look around. There were probably a hundred different mirrors in the shop. Alex let out a sarcastic laugh as Sam and Dean shined their lights around the place.

"Well that's just great," Dean muttered, pulling out the picture of the crime scene where Mary died that had the mirror in it. "Let's start looking."

They had separated to split up the chore of finding the right mirror, hoping to cut the time it took to find it down. So far they had no luck.

"Think they've sold it?" Alex asked as she moved back over to her brothers, idling twisting the crowbar she had been gripping.

"Maybe," Dean shrugged, glancing to her and then back at Sam.

"I don't think so," Sam spoke up, his light shining on a mirror that looked like what they had been searching for. Dean and Alex moved over to him, Dean pulling out the picture to compare it.

"That's it," Dean sighed, taking the flashlight Sam handed to him. "You sure about this?"

Sam exhaled quietly, glancing to Alex before back at the mirror. "Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary," he looked to Dean who was giving him an unsure look and picked up his crowbar. "Bloody Mary."

They were all holding their breath after that, crowbars gripped tightly as if she was just going to manifest herself in front of them. That was when they all three noticed a light shining in through a window from the other side of the store.

"I'll go check that out," Dean frowned, turning from it to look at Sam and Alex. "Stay here, be careful. Smash anything that moves." Dean's attention turned more to Alex than Sam now, and with a single look he was able to portray what he would've said if Sam hadn't been in the room. It was along the lines of 'don't let anything happen to him, you hear me? he's your brother too'. She just nodded back at him, and satisfied with that answer Dean moved to start his crawl to the front of the store.

Alex and Sam were standing side by side now, each of them gripping their crowbar tightly.

"Sam," Alex whispered suddenly, as if afraid if she spoke out loud Mary would attack. "We're in a room that has literally hundreds of mirrors. She could be in any of them."

Sam grimaced as he glanced at her before quickly spinning around, having heard a breath behind them. Alex stood warily to his back, glancing around at the mirrors he couldn't see. It was probably safer for them to be standing this way, one taking half of the room and the other taking the rest. It was something that came naturally to them, even if they had only actually worked one case before.

It surprised Alex when Sam suddenly darted forward and smashed a mirror, but it surprised her even more to find Mary in the mirror that was right in front of her. She followed Sam's actions and broke the one in front of her, glancing around at every mirror she could see for a glimpse of Mary. Sam was once again facing Mary's mirror, leaving Alex to cover the rest of the room.

"Come on. Come into this one," Sam muttered, glaring angrily at it. But soon his reflection started to change. He suddenly found it harder to breathe, blood starting to trickle out of his eyes. When his crowbar dropped to the ground with a clang Alex twisted back to him, gasping when she saw him gripping at his heart and the blood dripping down his face.

"Sam!" Alex darted forward, trying to pull his hands away from his chest as she looked into Mary's mirror. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, but she had a feeling whatever Mary was doing was affecting Sam and only Sam. Sam suddenly pitched forward, unable to stay standing any longer. Alex struggled to keep him from collapsing, but because of his much larger size she was only able to slow his descent onto his knees and keep him from falling forward onto his face. "Sam, snap out of it!"

Sam was unresponsive to her as he stared at the mirror. She only glimped Dean as he ran into the room and then straight at the mirror, smashing his crowbar through it and breaking whatever hold Mary had on Sam.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean called out as he fell down beside of Alex and Sam, both of his hands gripping Sam's shoulders as he pushed Alex out of the way. Alex frowned a little at the action, but moved to make room for him nonetheless.

"It's Sam," he managed weakly, eliciting a small smile from Alex.

"God, are you okay?" Dean asked him worriedly, motioning to the blood that had been dripping from his eyes.

"Uh, yeah," Sam nodded, managing to smile up at Dean.

Dean shook his head lightly. "Come on, come on," he tugged Sam up, putting one of his arms over his neck. They began to walk out of the store, Alex trailing behind of them, until they heard a strange noise from behind them.

They all turned in time to see Mary crawling over the broken glass, having apparently been freed from the mirror when Dean broke it. Mary was walking towards them, causing all three of the siblings to drop to their knees with matching grimaces. It wasn't long until they were all laid on the floor, blood had begun dripping down each of their faces from Mary's power. Alex and Sam were worse off than Dean, who only had to glance at each of his younger sibling's before finding enough strength to roll over and grab a mirror near him, throwing it up in front of him.

Mary started to choke and sputter as her reflection screamed at her, melting into a pile of blood. When she was gone Dean tossed the mirror onto the ground and it shattered into thousands of pieces.

"Hey Alex, Sam?" Dean asked after he had regained some of his breath, looking between the two of them.

"Yeah?" they both responded, still breathing heavily but not as labored.

"This has got to be like… what, 600 years of bad luck?" Dean grinned at them, causing Sam to chuckle wearily and Alex to grin back and shake her head.

"Wanna find a few ladders to walk under?" Alex added, making Sam shake his head and Dean's grin to grow even wider.

* * *

Twenty minutes later they had packed all of their stuff into the Impala from the motel room. Alex was holding her duffel in her lap, Charlie sat beside her in the backseat and the boys were in the front. They slowed to a stop outside of Charlie's house.

"So this is really over?" Charlie asked the car, looking between the three siblings.

"Yeah, it's over," Dean nodded, turning slightly to look at Charlie in the backseat.

"Thank you," she told them all earnestly, shaking Dean's hand as he offered it. She then climbed out of the car, getting a few steps away before Sam stopped her.

"Charlie?" Sam called after her, leaning slightly out of his window, "Your boyfriend's death… you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen." Charlie smiled a little in response, turning back and returning into her house.

Dean gently hit Sam's arm as he turned back around in his seat, starting the Impala up. "That's good advice," he told him, driving away from the curb. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam asked, looking at Dean as if he had been expecting whatever he was about to ask.

"Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret it," Dean's tone was serious as he glanced at Sam as he drove.

"Look… you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself," Sam frowned, looking out the mirror as they drove down the street in town.

Alex also frowned in the backseat, glancing between the boys and then outside in the same direction as Sam. She was fairly surprised to see a woman that looked a lot like Sam's girlfriend, Jessica, wearing a white dress on the street corner beside of a light pole. And then she disappeared when they turned around the corner. She glanced to the front seat to see if either of the boys had seen it and it seemed that only Sam had, but he was keeping it to himself so she decided not to bring it up.

"And what about you, princess?" Dean asked, directing his attention to Alex. Sam turned a little in his seat to look at her. "Wanna tell us what's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?" Alex asked, trying to play as innocently as possible. Maybe they were just talking about her newly acquired clothes and phone. She already had an idea to tell them for that. They hadn't actually seen the card, so they had no idea it had her name on it. She could easily just tell them she stole it off of someone when she went out.

"That whole thing in Nashville. Demons, or whatever," Dean continued, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

She hadn't been expecting a question on that, which stunned her into a momentary silence to consider what to say. "Well," she finally began, glancing between Sam and Dean and realizing she was under tight scrutiny. "I got to Nashville just fine. Got my stuff settled in my house and went over to the boutique. They sent me out on a cloth run because we had run out of the right kind of red chiffon…-"

"Just stop," Dean told her, the tone of his voice dropping as he shook his head. "Your tells are too much like Sam's. You're lying. Why?"

Sam frowned at Dean's brashness, trying instead to be the more compassionate little brother. "You can trust us, Alex. I know we don't know each other that well, but we're family. Family helps each other out."

Alex frowned, gripping the bottoms of the sleeves of her jacket in her palms to keep the material pulled over her wrists. She knew they wanted something more to go on. She just wished she had prepared better for it. She really didn't think they could help her. If anything they would be killed if they tried. They weren't marked like she was. Even if she still didn't understand what was happening to her fully, she knew the boys wouldn't understand or be able to help.

"You know what? Forget it," Dean snapped, pressing a little harder into the gas. "Just explain one thing to me. One thing."

"It depends on the thing," Alex swallowed the saliva she hadn't realized was accumulating in her mouth, frowning.

"We went to Nashville, yeah," Dean began, glancing back to gauge her reaction. "Like two days after all that went down. And we went to the morgue after we found sulfur on the scene and couldn't find you. You know, working the case like we had to." Alex had paled at this point, realizing exactly where Dean was heading with this. Two days. She hadn't woken up for three. "We found you there, Alex. Dead as a door knob. Cold. Rigor mortis. All that. So, what the hell?"

"I…-" Alex found it harder to breathe as Dean continued to put pressure on the conversation. She hadn't expected them to know. They weren't supposed to know. Had they seen her wrists? What else did they know?

"Hey, Alex, breathe," Sam reached an arm back to her, gripping onto her shoulder, watching her with concern alight in his eyes. "It's okay."

She took a deep breath when she felt his hand on her shoulder, the warmness of it bringing her out of the cold of her panic. Her jaw muscles clenched and unclenched as she closed her eyes, trying to think of what to tell them. If they knew so much already, and they were still letting her hang around after they knew she had been dead… Maybe she could tell them the truth.

Dean had pulled off on the side of the road by the time she opened her eyes again. Both of her brothers had turned in their seats to watch her, each of them worried. She bit her lip a little as she sighed, gently removing Sam's hand from her shoulder with a small smile to him in thanks. "Okay." She spoke finally, looking between them and resolving herself to tell them everything she knew.

But as she looked from Sam to Dean another time she caught a passing glimpse of someone standing fifty feet in front of the car. She quickly looked back out at where she had seen him. And he was still there. Astaroth, in all of his demon glory. He smiled at her and shook his head, his blonde hair being swept around his face in the breeze outside. He waved at her, his eyes flashing into their demon-esque solid blue, and then she felt herself being pulled in all directions once again. Sam and Dean were left oblivious, having been staring at her the duration of her confrontation with Astaroth.

"Alex! Where the hell-?!" Dean shouted, throwing open the door of the Impala and climbing into the backseat to look for an explanation. Sam was doing the same on the other side.

Astaroth watched them with an amused smile on his face before he disappeared, the Winchester boys none the wiser.


	12. Chapter 12: Lessons in Hell

_Okay guys. I really hope you like this chapter. _

* * *

When the awkward feeling of being pulled in a thousand directions subsided, which was something Alex never would get used to, she opened her eyes to see that to her dismay she was alone in a deteriorating brick building. She was still clutching her duffel bag as she slowly turned in a circle, frowning more and more as she realized she had no idea where she was.

"Hello, darling," Astaroth's sultry voice drawled out from behind her, making her spin suddenly to see him. "You're so jumpy. It's cute."

"Yeah, well, you just pulled me out of a car in front of my brothers. And I have had a hell of a week," she snapped at him, opting for being argumentative instead of allowing him to see how afraid she was. Because she was terrified. She was alone, in some dilapidated building that smelled of sewer, with one of the two demons who had so suddenly turned her life to ruin.

"I love the fire in her," a second male voice chimed in, an Australian accent to the words, as he walked into the pale light coming through one of the dusty windows, stopping not far from Astaroth. He was shorter and chubbier, with light brown hair and blue eyes, but she knew who it was when he grinned at her.

"Beelzebub," Alex stated more than asked, putting the strap of her duffel bag around her shoulder and across her chest. If she had to make a run for it, she would at least not have that as a hindrance.

He grinned even wider as she named him, winking at her. "Hit the nail on the head. You've had quite the exciting week, huh, cupcake?"

She frowned as she looked between Astaroth and Beelzebub. They were both standing in a very rigid stance, nearly mimicking each other without realizing it. "Let's cut the crap," she told them, crossing her arms. "What's the deal with these marks? 'Unholy Trinity'?"

"So you've heard about that," Astaroth nodded with a smile, glancing from her to Beelzebub. "You placed that little rumor very well."

"Yes, well, I'm good for more than just the dirty bits," Beelzebub replied, his attention focused on Alex. "That's just a gimmick, cupcake. No such thing. Made it up for fun."

"Just tell me what the hell you two want with me," Alex demanded, her eyes darkening in her growing anger. "I have no patience left for these stupid games. I've died. Twice. I've had two asshole demons mark me or whatever, and another demon I made a deal with. Seriously. You can all go rot in hell."

"Making a deal is on you, sweetheart," Astaroth shrugged. "But you didn't bind your soul in the deal, so good on you. Maybe you actually do have some thread of intelligence in that pretty head."

"And we're not demons, so kindly stop comparing us to those pus-filled sores," Beelzebub added, sneering at her.

Alex was taken aback by that. "What do you mean you aren't demons? You've got the whole demon thing down pat."

"We're even better than demons," Astaroth smirked at her, raising one blonde eyebrow slightly.

"But for now, cuppycake," Beelzebub continued for Astaroth, disappearing for barely a second and then reappearing behind of Alex, grabbing onto her shoulders painfully tight. Alex pulled against his grip, elbowed him in the gut, stomped on his foot… but none of it made his grip loosen in the slightest.

Astaroth approached from where he stood, grabbing her chin and forcefully keeping her head still. "For now, darling, you've got some catching up to do with your lessons. I wasn't lying when I told you that we should have met years ago."

"I can smell the fear on you," Beelzebub spoke into her ear, inhaling sharply along her neck. "It's good on you. Do try and hold on to that."

"Why can't you just tell me what's happening?" Alex asked quietly, her dread icing over the fire of her soul that she had clung onto before. "If you're not demons, then what are you? What have you done to me? What is all of this?"

"You forgot the magic word," Beelzebub taunted her, nodding to Astaroth from behind her.

"Please," Astaroth told her as he winked at her, pressing his first and middle finger to her forehead. "The magic word is please."

She had barely opened her mouth to utter out 'please' when everything suddenly changed.

The creaky dilapidated brick building she had been in with Beelzebub and Astaroth was gone, and so were they. But she wasn't alone. Screams echoed from every corner around her. Tortured screams, each of them ripping out of the mouths of their owners in a visceral manner. They were terrifying, pain-filled screams for help and mercy.

Alex cautiously looked around her, unconsciously biting her lip as her fear slowly surmounted over rational thought. It was as if she were staring at an eternity in all directions with no end in sight. The entire place was a filthy yellow with intermittent clouds of black marring the light even more. And all around her were giant hooks anchored into the ground, their chains shooting up infinitely to the sky. Her eyes slowly trailed up one, trying to see where they led to, only to gasp and quickly cover her mouth in alarm.

The chains zig-zagged haphazardly for as far up as she could see, but that wasn't what had scared her. The chains weren't whole chains. There were parts where they broke off from each other, and wouldn't have held in such a straight line without something to keep them in place… And so, placed occasionally along the lengths of chain were bodies, held by hooks that dug into their skin. They were the ones screaming in agony. The bodies were alive. And they were human. Each and every one of them was thrashing and screaming, guttural noises emanating from all of them to mesh into a din of pain and sorrow.

Tears leaked from her eyes unbidden as she stared up at what she could only hope was Hell. "Hoping this is Hell…" Alex whispered to herself, blinking away her tears and shaking her head. "God, I'm already going insane." But it didn't keep her from seriously holding onto that hope. Because she honestly couldn't think of anything worse than what she was hearing or witnessing. Even the smell was something she could only relate to Hell. It was acrid; pungent with blood, decay, and death.

She re-positioned the duffel at her hip, swallowing back the bile that had threatened to rise as she thought about where she was. Instead she slowly tried to bring her wits back, steadying out her breathing despite the disgusting feeling it gave her with every inhale. She knew where she was. Or, at least, had a good idea of where she was. Hell. So her next step would be to… what? Find a way out? Was there a way out of Hell?

She glanced up again, in the metaphorical direction of both the earth and Heaven (considering she was in Hell she figured she was below both of those). "Well, only one way to really go," she murmured quietly to herself, making sure her shoes were laced and her bag secured around her. "If a demon can do it I can do it. And I'm much better than a demon."

Alex secured her hair in its ponytail as she approached the nearest hook in the ground to her, looking from it up as far as she could see. Visibility dimmed down after eighty or so feet, but she had a feeling Hell was much larger than that. She was at the bottom, or she assumed she was considering there was solid ground under her feet. It wasn't going to be a walk in the park. But then again, when was the life of anyone attached to the name of Winchester ever easy?

She reached out nervously to touch the blackened wrought iron, pausing slightly to once again quell the growing panic that came with realizing she was in Hell. When she had managed to push that aside with a curse to Astaroth and Beelzebub for putting her here she laid her hand upon the hook. She yelped and recoiled when the skin on the palm of her hand sizzled with the contact. The reek of burning flesh filled her nostrils as she cradled her hand to her chest. Several deep breaths later she reached out to grasp the burning iron again, grimacing as it burned her again. She wasn't about to just walk away because it hurt. Up was the best plan she had. And this was the only way she could do it.

So with every ounce of determination she had she reached with her other hand, grasping the chain the hook was attached to with a grimace. She pulled herself up, the leather and rubber of her boots beginning to melt as she placed her feet on the top of the hook. With a deep breath she glared upwards, steeling herself for what was to come. The pain of her flesh melting was excruciating, but the screams of the damned souls made her feel like her physical suffering was probably a walk in the park. Even if, in reality, it was more like a climb out of Hell.

With a subdued fervor she moved her hand up more on the chain, tugging herself up after it. She had climbed ropes before in school, and was okay at it, but no amount of preparing could have helped her. Her hands were suffering from far more than rope burns. When other parts of her body hit the chain they were also burned. By the time she got a mere twenty feet up a lot of her had been seared by the chain. But she continued climbing.

Until she came upon the end of that chain. It was hooked into the back of a woman; the woman's blonde hair was matted and covered in blood, much like the rest of her. Alex bit her lip as she slowly moved towards the woman. She couldn't reach another chain until she was right below her. "I'm sorry," Alex whispered as she carefully reached to grab the chain that was attached to a hook in the woman's shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry."

The woman had only been panting quietly until Alex had spoken, and when Alex had switched chains it tweaked the festered wound on her shoulder and caused a pained scream to erupt from her throat. "Oh, God," Alex blinked back tears as she slowly moved away from the woman, being careful not to make the chain move to much. "I'm so sorry." Her apologies fell on deaf ears as the woman just continued her tortured yells. Alex shuddered, sure those screams would echo in her nightmares.

* * *

She wasn't sure how long she had been climbing. She had fallen into a more robotic pattern the longer she went on, trying to close herself out and numb away the pain and the nightmares she had witnessed. She had seen so many tortured souls. So many broken shells of what were once just humans, like her. Not long ago she had paused to watch with detached interest as one of the souls was tortured by others. They were being watched and directed by a larger being. Even though the being in charge was more of a shadowy figure in a human-esque shape Alex knew what it was. It was a demon, overseeing the tortures of those souls damned to Hell.

The more she climbed, the more hopeless she started to feel. There was no end in sight. Only more tortured souls. More lengths of the chain that was probably going to end up burning straight to her bones.

She shook her head, as if the physical action alone could keep away the thoughts of helplessness. Her climbing paused as she wiped sweat off of her forehead with the back of one of her hands, smearing blood across it as she did. She had to keep climbing. It didn't matter that she had lost track of how long she had been here, if there even was an actual way to measure time in Hell. It felt like she had been climbing for years.

* * *

Slowly but surely her pattern had turned into routine. She never ceased climbing, only paused on occasion to try and see if the end was in sight. If she had to guess on how long she had been trying to escape Hell she'd have estimated around twenty years. It felt like twenty years. She was weary. Alone. She had grown to be able to ignore the pain of her searing flesh. By this point she would have been relieved if a demon took interest in her and took her off to be tortured. At least then she wouldn't be left holding onto the false hope of eventually finding her way out of Hell.

* * *

"It's a long way to the top, if you wanna rock'n'roll."

She had recently taken to murmuring songs to herself to anchor her sanity. It was what she had done in the past to calm her nerves. Of course, her nerves were more than fried after spending nearly thirty years climbing through Hell, but it was a nice distraction nonetheless. She had spent her time climbing over the past few years alternating between blocking everything out and thinking about how things would've been if she were still on earth. She'd have definitely tried sticking around her brothers. They were the best. They could have been a fearsome hunting team together. Occasionally she would let her mind wander to if she would've ever found someone to fall in love with. Maybe even gotten married and had kids.

But all of that was a pipe dream if she never found her way out of Hell. She still had no idea what Astaroth and Beelzebub were thinking when they sent her to Hell. Was it for an extended lesson on climbing? If it was, she definitely was acing it.

"There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold…" Alex sung to herself, lifting onto another chain. "And she's buying the stairway to heaven…"

"Interesting song," a female voice chimed in from behind her.

Alex paused, narrowing her eyes as she thought about what she had just heard. But she disregarded it and continued climbing. She had been left alone for thirty years almost. Why would anything be talking to her now?

"It's rude, you know, to ignore someone who's talking to you," the voice had followed her.

Alex slowly turned to look behind her, frowning when she saw the shadowy shape of a demon floating not far from her.

"You sure are talkative," if the shadow had eyes she was sure they would have been rolling, "Alex, yeah? Been trying to find you for a while now. I'm here to show you the way out of Hell."

"You're a demon," Alex finally spoke, still clinging to the chain she had been climbing. "Why should I trust you?"

"Well, do you really want to keep on climbing for an eternity? Because that's how long it'll take you. You're just a human." The demon was very smug for someone who was similarly trapped in Hell.

"If you know about a way out, why are you still here?" Alex asked it. Her.

"Because it's not for demons. It's for human souls. Like yours. Ones that don't belong here," the demon used one shadowy arm to point towards the right of them, where the familiar yellow haze was slightly brighter. "You were already near it. It drew you to it."

"Why are you helping me?" Alex frowned, staring at the place that was supposedly her salvation. "Who are you?"

"I'm helping you because I know who you are. And you need to be on earth for things to fall in the correct order," the female demon was speaking as if she were better than Alex, and definitely had an ulterior motive. "My name is Ruby."

"Well, Ruby," Alex drawled sarcastically, suddenly invigorated by the chance that she was only a few feet from being out of Hell. "Definitely not nice to meet you. Hope we never cross paths again. Enjoy burning in Hell."

"Oh, I won't be for much longer," Ruby assured her darkly as Alex made a beeline for the exit.

Alex ignored her as the yellow hue of Hell started to twist around her the nearer she got to escaping. And just as suddenly as she had been placed in Hell she was being pulled out, her soul aching as it was tugged away from the place of her torment for the last thirty years.

* * *

_Don't forget to leave a review to let me know how I did. And hey, anyone know who that first demon she saw in Hell was? The one with the souls doing the torturing? And what exactly are Astaroth and Beelzebub, if not demons? Interesting... If you have any ideas, leave a review saying them. ;) I may let you know if you're on the right track. _


	13. Chapter 13: Heaven is a Place on Earth

_Eeeeeeeee. An update. I hope you likey._

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It felt like she was floating through dense layers of fog, a dull white light barely illuminating anything around her. But Alex felt better. Better than she had in years. Slowly but surely the numerous festering burns and wounds on her body began to close, healing and radiating an easing coolness that was a severe contrast to the heated torture that was Hell. She closed her eyes and basked in the feeling; allowing herself to embrace all of the relief she now found herself floating in.

Slowly and gently she felt herself being pulled down. When she felt her bare feet touch softly onto something grainy and mildly warm she opened her eyes and was shocked to find that she was staring out at a familiar ocean. The sun's rays beamed down onto her face as she looked up at it, squinting at it as the light from it made her eyes more of a vibrant amber than chocolate brown. She knew this place. It was a beach she had visited as a child, on the Gulf Coast. Her Dad had picked her up a couple of days before she found it to spend some time with her, but ended up going on a hunt. In her anger she had left the motel room and eventually ventured through a thicket of trees and found this secluded beach. The water was still a brilliant azure, the air ripe with salt, seagulls squawking in the distance…

"This is a very beautiful place," a masculine voice said lightly behind her, causing her to jump and break out of her reverie as she turned to face it. "Relax, child. I don't wish to harm you." A black man stood not far from her, his hands laced together behind him as he smiled gently at her. He was slightly rotund, his hair receding and graying along with his beard. "My name is Joshua. I am an Angel of the Lord. I felt when you entered that portal in Hell and pulled you to me here, in the Garden. I tended your wounds and cleaned away the filth of Hell. You are safe here."

Her words caught in her throat as she stumbled backwards, falling ungracefully onto her rear in the sand. She blinked and swallowed several times as she watched Joshua move to her, and only blankly stared up at him when he crouched down to look at her. The concern on his face appeared to be earnest, and it felt like he was looking through her and to her soul as his chocolate colored eyes peered into hers.

"Sorry about the shoes, though," he lamented, glancing to her bare feet and then back to her. "I was able to mend your clothes, but the boots were too much of a mess for me to mend."

Alex glanced to her feet before locking eyes with him, offering him a small smile in thanks for changing the subject to something much lighter. "I can always buy more. I think I might just have cursed feet, though. That's the second pair I've lost to fire."

Joshua chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Not so much cursed feet as it is bad luck."

"So, uh," Alex carefully stood up again, looking up only slightly to Joshua, and if she had her boots she'd probably have been eye level with him. Her red t-shirt and dark blue jeans were as unmarred as the rest of her was, even the scar on her wrist from an accident throwing knives when she was 14 was gone. She swore she could still feel her hands burning lightly, though. Or maybe it was some sort of psychological thing tying her to that horrible visit to Hell. She wasn't sure yet. She raised her arms to look at her palms to make sure they were actually in one piece, but her attention was caught on the marks that were still on her wrists.

"I'm afraid it isn't within my power to remove those," Joshua had noticed where she was looking, now frowning. "It's a treacherous path you walk, child. Your choices, and yours alone, will decide where it leads."

"So you know then," she spoke barely above a whisper, dropping her arms and locking eyes with him again. "You know what's wrong with me. What those demons did to me… no, not demons. I don't know what they are. They said they weren't demons, though. Are they angels, then? I don't of anything that has the power they do other than demons and gods, and now maybe angels. Please, can you tell me what's going on? I've died. And I've been to Hell. I have no idea whats going on anymore. I didn't even think angels were a real thing. Is this Heaven?"

"You have a lot of questions, I know. I'm afraid it isn't my decision on what you're told while you're here," he replied solemnly, giving her a pitying look.

"Then whose decision is it?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes at him as she found her voice again. "I'm really tired of being strung around all over the place."

"God's," Joshua replied simply, motioning for her to follow him as he began to walk away from the shoreline. "I talk to Him, from time to time. That's how I learned that you would be entering that portal soon and was able to pull you from Hell. He told me. I was also instructed to lead you deeper into the Garden, to the Tree of Life."

The scenery had changed from the beachy fauna to more of a forest as they walked, and then just as quickly it became a meadow with rolling green hills. On a hill not too far in front of them stood a large willow tree, swaying gently in the breeze. Just the sight of it caused Alex to marvel. It was the most perfect tree she had ever seen. It had just enough vines hanging from it in varying shades of green to make it even all around, and it had a strong, wide trunk.

Joshua had been watching her silently, a small smile playing across his lips as she admired his handiwork. "She's a beauty," he nodded towards the tree. "I've been tending her for a very long time now."

"You're… Heaven's gardener, then? If this is Heaven, I mean," Alex turned to him, her right eyebrow tilting upwards in her amusement.

Joshua chuckled and shook his head, motioning towards the tree. "I suppose I am. Now go, Alex. I've been told to leave when you've found your way there."

She took a few steps forward at his beckon, the ground cool beneath her feet and the grass the softest she had ever felt. She glanced down at her feet curiously as the lush blades caressed the pale skin; her only birthmark, a light brown crescent shaped mark, stood out amongst the greens of the grass and white of her skin.

"I wish you the best, Alex," he called after her, making her pause to turn and look at him again. "I'm rooting for you Winchesters up here."

"Thanks," she smiled, holding a hand up in farewell as she turned and continued to the Tree. She felt… peaceful here. It was quiet and calm. It even helped relieve some of the tension that had built up for her over the past… she wasn't sure. It had felt like it had been tens of years when she was in Hell, but now she felt as she did before she went in. But she knew for sure when it began. On that bus with Beelzebub. And now it felt like her plight had gone on for her entire life.

She was still young, in her body at least, but time was weird in Hell. She had spent so long just climbing, upwards and upwards, witnessing tortures and horrors that she had never even dreamed were possible… No matter how good she felt right now, in this surreal and beautiful place, she had a feeling she wouldn't forget the terrors of Hell.

Alex was soon brushing past the lush tendrils hanging from the branches of the Tree, passingly admiring the verdant leaves. Once past the initial veil of branches she was enveloped in all sides in a vibrantly green cocoon, the outside world was effectively cut out; she only caught glimpses of the hills outside when the breeze moved the branches around.

She wasn't sure what she had been expecting. When it felt like minutes had gone by and nothing had happened she began to grow bored, pacing around underneath the tree to give it a good look from all sides. There was nothing especially different from one side to the next.

"What the hell am I here for?" she murmured to herself, rubbing her hands together as another round of phantom pains ran through them. She knew the burns had been well healed, but she couldn't help it. She had been living with that pain for a very long time before it was made better.

"To receive instruction, I think," a man spoke up from behind her, causing her to once again jump and spin around.

"I'm really getting tired of people appearing out of nowhere behind me," Alex told him, frowning as she took in his appearance. He was pale, as if he hadn't gone outside in several days, and was wearing… a bathrobe. His brown hair was messy and his beard untrimmed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, glancing around nervously. "I… uh, sorry. This is like something I wrote once. This is awkward. Am I dreaming?"

Alex raised an eyebrow at his question, leaning more on one leg and crossing her arms as she stared him down. "You're not dreaming. But on the off-chance I'm wrong and you are dreaming? Wake the hell up. This dream sucks. I just got out of Hell. Why would you dream about something like that?"

He stared at her blankly, looking up at her slightly because she was a couple of inches taller than him. Then he swallowed nervously, his eyes darting around to their surroundings again. "Sorry," he mumbled, "But I'm going with the dream thing. So, uh... sorry, Alex. For the whole Hell thing. And uh, for the stuff with Beelzebub and Astaroth. You seem nice and all, so I really am sorry."

"Okay. Stop. How do you know so much about me? Seriously. I've never even met you before. And not many people know about what's been going on. How do you know this stuff?" Alex took a step towards him, which he mimicked by taking a step back and raising his hands in his defense. "Are you a demon? An angel?"

"Um," his eyes shifted slightly left as he shook his head. "Neither? My name is Chuck Shurley. I've written about you and your brothers a little."

"You've written about us? Geez, pal, if this is a dream of yours it's pretty friggin' insane," she took a step back from him, shaking her head both at him and the fact that she believed what he was saying. What did it say about her that her life had suddenly taken such a sharp turn that she would believe some random guy in Heaven when he said he had written about her and her brothers and wasn't an angel or a demon?

Chuck was smiling a little at her now, though still warily eyeing her as if she would decide against believing him at any second. "That sounds more like you," he seemed actually relieved that she was both taking this situation so well and starting to act like her old self.

"Okay, obviously you've been writing about me for a while now. Or whatever. I don't even know anymore. Just… stop acting like you know me better than I know me. It's weird." Alex rubbed her face a little before exhaling, trying her best to remain calm for whatever this was that was happening. "I'm very, very confused. You said something about 'receiving instruction'?"

"Yes," Chuck nodded adamantly, his gray-blue eyes finally locking onto hers. "This is so weird including myself in the story like this…," he slowed down to think until Alex cleared her throat, making his attention jump back to her, "Sorry. Uh… They're instructions from God. He wants you to know that he isn't ignoring your plight. He just… can't intervene. The choices you have to make are all yours. I'm sorry. This sounds so pretentious."

Alex shook her head, idly rubbing her palms together as she listened to him. "Pretentious or not, this is the best I've got. So keep talking, Chuck."

"Okay," he nodded slightly, swallowing a little before he continued, "Uh… Beelzebub and Astaroth put their sigils on you, didn't they?" Alex nodded her affirmation, which encouraged Chuck to continue. "Okay. Beelzebub and Astaroth, they were… uh, well, angels... once. They sort of… fell. With Lucifer. They were his followers when he was cast out by Michael. They had been perverted by Lucifer by the time they were cast out. Sort of like what he did to humans, except when it happens to angels…"

"You get batshit insane and crazy powerful assholes?" Alex butted in, eliciting an awkward chuckle from Chuck.

"Yeah. Pretty much. Sorry about the boring history lesson…" he laughed awkwardly under his breath again, shuffling a little on his feet. "So, uh… Beelzebub. He's the worst of the two. You've heard of Jesus, right?" Alex rolled her eyes and nodded. "Well, Beelzebub is the one responsible for giving Jesus all those weird powers. But that's all I really know. Astaroth wasn't working with him back then. So I really don't know what's going on with... that part of it all."

"So… what, am I the new Jesus or something?" when Chuck just shrugged a little Alex continued, "How do you even know all of this?"

"I just… do?" his tone pitched upwards at the end of his sentence, making it more of a question than a statement. "I'm sorry that I don't know more for you. Really. Even if this is just some weird dream, I wish I could help you more. But I was just supposed to tell you all of this. And as for the whole 'receive instruction' thing? I think… I think, maybe -I'm just guessing here- but maybe God wants you to do something about Beelzebub and Astaroth."

"Like what? Kill them?" Alex gripped her hands together tightly, thoroughly overwhelmed.

Chuck swallowed harshly, his eyes once again dancing around their surroundings. "I-... I dunno. Maybe? I just don't think he wants what's happening to you to happen to anyone else."

Alex bit the inside of her cheek as she sighed through her nose, taking several seconds to calm herself down. Chuck looked like he'd bolt like a rabbit at the slightest loud noise. "Okay. Thank you, Chuck. You've been a lot more helpful than what I've been dealing with."

"You're welcome?" Chuck seemed to be incredulous of the whole situation again, shaking his head. "I think… I think I'm gonna wake up now." And then Chuck disappeared from in front of her, leaving Alex alone under the tree again.

Alex was frowning as she thought over everything she had just learned. It was all so much. She had no idea where to even start making sense of it. "I think I'm just going to focus on the now," she spoke out loud to herself, firmly nodding. Some of her hair had fallen loose from where it was tied, the dark locks framing her face as she began walking back out from under the tree.

A sudden, glaringly white light made her shut her eyes tightly as she emerged from under the limbs. The smell of the air around her changed, morphing from the pleasant and almost minty scent of the Garden to something more earthy. Like rust. And the smell of dirt recently made wet by a rainstorm. And the wind had a cold edge to it that made her shiver.

She slowly opened her eyes, almost afraid of where she had been transported to this time. After a few times of being tossed around against her will she had a good feel of when she had been moved to a new place.

But this time she was actually pleasantly surprised when she figured out where she was. Stacks upon stacks of old rusted cars were everywhere. Off to the side was an old wooden shed, a car inside of it with the hood up and some tools laid out on a table beside of it. And directly behind her was the very familiar wooden two-story house she had spent a lot of her childhood in. The peeling blue paint, boarded up windows on the second floor, and the hubcaps placed sporadically along the front of the house… it was a heavenly sight to her. Sure, she had just been in actual Heaven... but this was like Heaven on Earth. She was exactly where she belatedly realized she needed to be. She was at Uncle Bobby's.

She slowly walked up to the door, an immense fatigue abruptly settling over her. All at once her entire being was racked with the entirety of what had happened to her… But she kept herself together long enough to knock on the door, her knuckles scraping off a little of the flakey white paint on it.

And when it opened she found herself on the receiving end of a double barreled shotgun, a very angry man in a trucker cap behind it.

* * *

_Soooooooooo I hope this wasn't very bad. I'm very nervous about it. _

_Leave a review if you're ever so kind! I'll be sure and reply to it personally._

_I realize that time is now wonky and hard to keep up with. Allow me to explain._

_She spent 3 months in Hell. Which, of course, is 30 years. So she's been missing for 3 months, the boys have continued doing their thing for 3 months, and Bobby has thought she was dead for a little over 3 months. I hope that makes sense! Sorry for any confusion. _


	14. Chapter 14: Lovers Quarrel

_Here's the next chapter! I hope you guys enjoy. It's starting to pick up a little. I might also need to raise the level on the rating for this story soon._

* * *

"I don't know what the hell you are," Bobby growled out at her, his face contorting into a mixture of grief and anger, "But you picked the wrong girl to impersonate."

Alex stumbled backwards several steps away from the shotgun, but Bobby followed her out. He was pissed. She knew. She had seen that face on him before. But she had no idea why. He kept following after her until she stopped several feet from the porch steps, staring up at him in confusion. Rain started to fall from the overcast skies, large drops falling sloppily onto Alex as she tried to think of something to say.

"Bobby, it's me. Really. It is. What's wrong with you?" she knew it was the lamest thing she could've said, but she was more surprised she was still able to form complete sentences. She was exhausted. Mentally, physically… it even felt like her soul was worn thin. Maybe it was. It's not like her entire physical form was sent to Hell, was it? It had to have been her soul.

"Yeah, right," Bobby sneered, his shotgun still trained on her. "I saw that rest stop myself. It was barely standing. So cut the crap. Who the hell are you?"

"I-..." Alex stammered, gripping her hands together tightly as too familiar feeling of them burning in Hell reminded her of what had happened to her at a rest stop once; it felt like years ago. "Rest stop?" she looked past his shotgun to his blue-gray eyes, which were filled with vehemence and distrust. Her own eyes were wide, a deep brown shade from the continually darkening sky overhead, and completely portrayed every feeling she was experiencing. Confusion, fear, depression, pain, weariness… "That one near Sioux City, right? With Garth. That new hunter. That was… what, a week ago now? I remember it. There were three wendigos there and I had to catch the building on fire after shoving Garth out of a window. I never got to find out if he found those girls the wendigos had taken. Or that man."

Bobby lowered the shotgun slightly to look her over. For a brief moment it was almost like he was going to believe her… then she was hit in the face by a round of holy water. It rolled off of her with the rain and burned a little, but she tried very hard to not let him see that. If he saw then it would be all over. He'd think she was a demon.

"Uncle Bobby…" she murmured quietly, wrapping her arms around her torso. "It's me. Really. I don't know what I can say to convince you." Maybe if she wasn't so outrageously tired she'd be able to work this situation out.

His eyes softened a little when she called him 'Uncle Bobby'. That combined with how absolutely pathetic she looked standing there in the rain, barefoot and slowly becoming drenched, eyes downcast and her posture hunched over made him put the shotgun down. He took several steps to her before stopping, pulling a small silver knife out of his pocket. "Arm," he ordered her gently, and when she held out her left arm to him he gently pushed her sleeve up. He paused to glance at the underside of her wrist, Beelzebub's mark just as black and pronounced as the first day she received it, and then he carefully slid the blade over her forearm. When nothing but tiny droplets of blood happened Bobby let the knife fall as he tugged Alex to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

His beard was scruffy against her cheek and he smelled a little like whiskey, but it didn't matter to Alex. She practically melted into his familiar embrace.

"Dang it, girl," he spoke gruffly as he pulled away from her, holding her by her shoulders at an arm's length away and looking over her again. "I thought you were dead."

She chuckled wryly, shrugging in response. "Sort of. Doesn't matter," she smiled lightly at him, a sudden chill making her shiver. "I'm here now."

"What the hell does that mean?" he asked her, an eyebrow raising and causing the wrinkles on his forehead to stand out more. "You don't even have shoes on, ya idjit," Bobby scolded her, giving her a light shove towards the house. "Get in there. We'll talk about it once you're dry."

* * *

She knew Bobby was relieved she was alive and sitting on his couch, one of his old afghans draped around her (the red and yellow zig-zag pattern on it made her cringe), but Alex would've really appreciated it if he would stop looking at her like she had grown a second head.

She had taken a quick shower not long after they went inside. The warm water was was a welcome relief that helped to wake her out of her exhausted and drained state. And when she got back downstairs, dressed in a pair of tight black jeans and a navy blue tee, Bobby had forced a fresh cup of coffee into her hands and sat her on the couch to begin their talk.

It had gone horribly so far. She had been trying her best to avoid actually telling him anything that had happened, but he wasn't falling for her half-truths and lies.

"Will ya just tell me what the hell's going on with you?" he demanded, rubbing a hand over his eyes in his exasperation. "None of this "I've been tracking down a demon" crap. You're being vague on purpose, girl. Cut me some slack here. I've been thinking you were dead for over three months now."

Alex's attention snapped back to him from her hands when he said that, her face scrunching in confusion. "Three months?"

He nodded stiffly, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "Yep. I even called your damned dad and told him."

She winced at that, returning to idly examining her hands. "I'm sorry, Bobby," she told him earnestly, still not looking at him. "I uh… lost track of time." And yet another half-truth came spilling out of her lips. She had lost track of time. But only because to her that whole thing with Garth had been thirty years ago. "Jesus," she whispered, shaking her head and closing her hands into fists as they began to feel like they were burning again. "My life is so weird."

"Surely it isn't that bad, darling." In the doorway to the kitchen stood one of the banes of her life, Astaroth. His vessel looked slightly worse for wear, the once unblemished marble skin was beginning to peel randomly across his body and his eyes were sunken in. Even his hair was greasier than she remembered. Bobby had stood and reached for his pistol when Astaroth spoke, but when Astaroth turned his blue eyes to gaze at him Bobby froze. "I'm not here to talk to you. Sit back down."

Bobby was forced back down into his chair by an invisible force, casting a worried glance to Alex. She just sat in place, examining Astaroth closely. He was different, sure, but why? She needed to figure it out. So she stood, taking a couple of steps forward to place herself between Astaroth and Bobby. "So nice to see you again, Astaroth," she smiled sweetly, putting her hands in her pockets. "You're certainly looking like shit today."

He sneered at her, the expression making his normally attractive face ugly. "You kept your spunk. Good for you."

"What's this? We're having a party and no one thought to invite me?" the Australian accent that Beelzebub's vessel had made his already odd question sound even more sinister than it did. He had appeared off to Alex's left, ten feet separating him and Astaroth.

Astaroth regarded him with derision, rolling his eyes at his appearance. "Leave. She's mine."

Beelzebub turned his blue eyes to Astaroth, standing straighter and puffing his chest out. It looked pretty weird with the gut that his vessel had, but somehow it made him seem even more imposing than Astaroth. "I thought we discussed this, brother. In fact, I can still see the toll our discussion had on you."

Alex cleared her throat when she realized they were no longer paying attention to her. They had been fighting, if the way they were acting meant anything. And if they were fighting… she could use that to her advantage. Maybe. She could at least redirect their attention to each other instead of her while she figured out a way to take them out. She spared a quick glance to Bobby, whose face was full of both confusion and alarm as he locked eyes with her-rightfully so, she assumed, considering it was his first time meeting these two; she remembered her first time was just as strange feeling. The fact that now it was almost normal to her made her grimace.

When the attention of both Beelzebub and Astaroth turned to her she had to take a deep breath to calm herself. These two had sent her to Hell. They had killed her friends. Killed her. And she had a feeling they would kill Bobby if they felt it necessary… or if they were bored. With a swallow she began talking, standing herself straight and rigid in an attempt to look like someone who was confident and still completely there. "So, last time I saw you two you were up each other's asses," she looked from Astaroth to Beelzebub, noting the annoyance in both of their eyes. "And now you're what? Having a lovers quarrel? What happened in paradise while I was vacationing in Hell?" Bobby made a slight noise behind her, still unable to talk, but she had a feeling it was about her admission to being sent to Hell. She sort of was hoping he wouldn't ever find out about that. But her words paid off. Each of them took a more defensive stance, regarding her curiously.

"So, cuppycake, looks like you did some real… _soul searching_ in your time off," Beelzebub cracked a grin at his own joke, causing Astaroth to grumble something under his breath across the room. "Did you enjoy your trip? Nothing quite like getting something for free, right?"

"Oh, sure, it was delightful," Alex crossed her arms and leaned her torso back slightly, deciding to try and keep as nonchalant of a posture as possible. If they even so much as smelled that she had been affected at all by her trip to Hell she had a feeling they would pounce her. They had sent her to Hell to learn a lesson, according to them. And she had a feeling the lesson she had learned, in Heaven, wasn't the one they had in mind. "The room service was terrible, but I suppose one could look past that after seeing the local attractions."

Astaroth was smirking at her, his pose mimicking hers as he listened. "Would you look at that, Beelzy? Seems like she lost that fear you liked so much."

Beelzebub glared at him. The tension in the air between the two of them was palpable as they locked eyes. It was almost like they were talking to each other without any words, because their facial expressions kept changing the longer they stared at each other. And then their internal dialogue must have taken a drastic turn to shouting because Alex became acutely aware of a high pitched whining sound growing in the room, and when it took an even more drastic turn to an extremely loud whining bottles in the room began to bust. So in hopes of sparing Bobby's already dirty house an even bigger mess she spoke up. "Hey! Whatever it is you two are doing, stop!" For the most part she was ignored, but the tone was turned down slightly. It was still a loud droning in her ears, but… wait a second, did she just hear her name? "Hey, I heard my name. If you two are talking about me the least you could do is say it to my face."

The noise abruptly stopped as their attention turned back to her. Their curiosity had apparently been piqued by her words.

"You understood a part of that?" Astaroth asked first, taking a slight step towards her which she mimicked by taking one backwards.

"That's unexpected," Beelzebub added, also taking a step to her. They were officially making her nervous. "But it's good. Very good. You're even better at this than that Jesus kid. And that's saying something."

"Yeah," she nodded quickly, glancing back at Bobby again and hoping he wasn't reconsidering ever letting her into his home. Because they had followed her there. And she was… what, treating them like old friends? Maybe her time spent in Hell did change her more than she wanted to admit. "I heard about that. You two are a part of Heaven's rejects, right?"

"Where on earth did you learn that?" Astaroth quirked one of his delicate blonde eyebrows, a smile playing across his lips. "My, my. It seems Hell was good to you, darling."

Alex shrugged in response. "I made a friend," she answered vaguely, not willing to tell them that she had actually been in Heaven when she learned about that. "So what's this whole thing going on with you two? I'm gone for three months and suddenly you hate each other."

Her attempt at deflection worked when Beelzebub took the bait. "We've always hated each other, cuppycake," he told her, brushing some of his light brown bangs away from his forehead dramatically. "We just decided to call a truce for a while. All for you. Don't you feel special?"

"If special means annoyed then yes," she smiled at him sarcastically. It was hard to hold up the facade she had going when her hands felt like they were on fire again. How could she keep on acting like Hell hadn't bothered her when the psychological trauma nipped at her through the phantom pains in her hands? It was all she could do to not think about the various tortures she had seen there. "So come on, let's hear it. A birdie told me Jesus only had your mark, Beelzebub. Where do you come into this, Astaroth?"

"Your grandpa seems restless back there." Astaroth didn't bite into her baiting as readily as Beelzebub, making her frown and turn slightly to glance at Bobby. "The way he's fighting my hold is annoying."

"Don't you even think about it," Alex spat quickly, turning her attention back to Astaroth. "You even think about killing him and I'll find a way to kill myself and actually stay dead. And believe me, when I set my mind on something, I see it through. I'll go full on nuclear on this bitch."

Her vehemence and threat made Beelzebub laugh. Astaroth just seemed flustered. He looked uncertain, even. Like he didn't know what all Alex could actually do. And when he looked to Beelzebub for some sort of denial or confirmation he was only given a grin.

"Actually," Alex spoke up again, mustering as much false courage as she could and actually taking a step towards him. "Why don't you just go ahead and get the hell out of my sight? I'm tired of looking at your stupid face."

Astaroth was completely taken by surprise at her sudden approach, watching her warily. His face was smooth and emotionless, but Alex felt like he was… afraid? Nervous? His smug attitude had left him and now he was left alone with Beelzebub, who was watching with a self-satisfied grin at what was happening, and Alex, who was giving him her best menacing stare.

"Run along now, 'Rothy," Beelzebub's laughter quelled slightly to a chuckle as he waved a hand at him. "Looks like my little baby is all grown up now and doesn't like you anymore."

"I don't like you either, assface," Alex snapped at Beelzebub, which he responded to with a charming smile. "And I'd go so far as to say I hate both of you."

"You'll regret this," Astaroth finally spoke, glaring at them both with an unsettling fire in his eyes. "Both of you." And then he was gone.

Bobby was up and out of his chair the second he could move again, grabbing Alex's arm and pulling her to be slightly behind him. "What the hell is going on, Alex?"

Alex grimaced and moved out from his grip, putting him behind her again. She felt better that way. If she died she would come back, she was sure of it. If Bobby died… "Some complicated and annoying stuff," she told him, holding an arm out to her side to keep him behind her when he tried to move up again. "Long story short? This asshole," she motioned at Beelzebub, "And the blonde douchebag put some kind of mark on me. I'm the new Jesus or something. Died twice. Went to Hell. Fun stuff."

Bobby opened and closed his mouth several times as he thought about some sort of a reply to what she had said. But he had nothing. It was the weirdest and most insane thing he had ever heard.

Beelzebub let out a guffaw at Bobby's reaction. "Oh, child, you're even more like me than I realized," he was still chuckling when Alex gave him an extremely confused look.

"So what? Lucifer made you insane or something before you fell?" she asked him, her brows furrowed as she watched him. "Because you certainly seem crazy."

Beelzebub smiled at her, this time a gentle smile that chilled her to her bones. "Lucifer improved me. He made me even more powerful than I already was. All for you, cupcake. Jesus was just a test. You're the real deal."

"I hate it when people talk in riddles," Alex told him, frowning and trying not to let him know he was freaking her out. The look in his eyes as he watched her… it was a strange mixture of pride and insanity. He was… proud of her. And she had no idea why.

"Then allow me to show you what I'm talking about," Beelzebub took three large steps forward and gripped Alex by her upper arm.

Alex tensed in his grip, her eyes shutting tightly. She faintly heard Bobby's gruff voice calling out to her, but she was already enveloped by the too familiar feeling of being transported. She knew it was useless to fight Beelzebub. He was stronger than her.

But he was surprisingly gentle when he let her go and nudged her arm, telling her to open her eyes.

* * *

_Don't forget to **leave me a review** to let me know how I'm doing! I try to reply personally to all of them. _

_Also: **I put a poll on my profile page that is related to this story. Go and check it out maybe? It'll help me out.**_

_AND: **How many chapters do you guys want me to aim for? I was originally thinking 22 to match the season of SPN, but it might not go on that long. I'm also not sure when we're gonna be jumping back into the life of the Winchesters for the moment. **_


	15. Chapter 15: Bye-bye Miss American Pie

_Hey guys! I'm so sorry I didn't update yesterday! I was just so exhausted. But here it is finally!_

* * *

It wasn't the gentle prodding from Beelzebub that made Alex open her eyes. It was the crying of a child.

The child was a young girl, barely even old enough to talk, sitting on the hood of a very familiar black car. It was late at night, the only light from the nearby illuminated sign of the motel the car was parked at; the wind was howling through the trees and the skies were growing overcast as heavy rain clouds moved in. The girl was sniffling, her arms wrapped around herself tightly. Her dark brown hair was done in a tight braid, the length of it falling down to the middle of her back. She wasn't dressed appropriately for the cold weather and was shivering.

"Isn't she just a cutie?" Beelzebub's quiet words broke Alex's attention away from the child and to him. "You always were at that age."

"Wait…" Alex looked back at the girl. The light made it harder to see her clearly, but the small pink backpack she was wearing and the small purple elephant toy stuck out to her. A light flickered to life inside of one of the rooms near the car and a curtain was pushed back when the girl's crying grew louder. "No way."

"Yes, way," Beelzebub grinned, crossing his arms over his stomach as he watched on. "It's about time you learned a few things about yourself, don't you think?"

She frowned and glanced at Beelzebub, unwilling to look away from the scene in front of her for long. "What is this? Are we in the past?"

"No. A memory." Beelzebub was still grinning as he waited for her next question. He was enjoying this immensely.

"Whose memory? It can't be mine, can it?" She was uncertain about what was going on. Why would Beelzebub have taken her into a memory? Better yet, how?

"It's mine, cupcake," he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, making her cringe.. "This was the night I gave you to your father."

"You're really weirding me out," she told him, trying to pull away from his grip. He dug his fingers into her shoulder when she tugged, keeping her in place. "Why are you showing me this?"

A man stepped out from the motel room and went towards the girl cautiously. It was her dad. She'd know him anywhere. His hair was thicker and darker, his skin without the wrinkles and beard she had grown used to, but it was him. He spoke quietly to the kid her, and Alex already knew the rest of what was going to happen. She had asked him a thousand times about the night her mother had abandoned her there. He was going to take her inside and find all of the official papers he needed for her in her backpack, along with a letter from her mother and a single photo of Alex as a baby.

"Now how about the night you were born?" Beelzebub asked, and before she had a chance to respond they were already in a different memory. It wasn't the hospital she had been expecting to see. It was cold, dirty basement; in the middle of the cement room was a bed. Laid on the bed was a very pregnant woman, already in the midst of labor.

"This little bastard had better be worth all this effort," the woman grunted out, breathing heavily during a pause between contractions. She was a stunning woman; she was tall, had long legs, her hair was black and her eyes an oceanic blue, her skin an olive tone. Although there weren't too many features she shared with the woman on the bed in front of her, Alex could tell who it was. It was her mother.

Alex witnessed her entire birth, stunned into silence by the affair. Beelzebub, too, was thankfully quiet. Until her mother had cradled the newborn Alex to her chest.

"This is the first time you and I met each other," Beelzebub informed her, smirking at her when she turned to give him an incredulous look.

"Yeah? Where are you in this whole thing? In a corner being a creepy ass?" Alex remarked, wishing she wasn't in this strange situation. Whatever happened to when she actually had a normal life? She missed it.

"No, silly," he nodded towards the woman and babe across the room from them. "I'm right there. Or did you think a woman that gorgeous would actually want to sleep with your dad?"

"I… I don't understand," Alex's breath caught in her throat, staring warily at her mother. "My mother went to school with dad. They had known each other their whole lives."

"Which is exactly why I chose her to be my vessel," Beelzebub rolled his eyes, as if it were obvious. "I've been invested in you from the very beginning."

"What…" she paused, blinking several times as the new information swirled around her mind in a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. "Oh, God."

"No, dear," he chided, shaking his head. "My father had no part of this. You were first conceived as an idea a very long time ago. My brother Lucifer and I discussed it in depth back in the day. And now look at you," he gave her a dramatic look up and down her body, smiling proudly, "You're all grown up and on your way to fulfilling your destiny. When my brother returns, and he will return, you and I will stand by him as his most trusted lieutenants."

Alex was flabbergasted, once again overwhelmed with what was happening. It was becoming way too much for her. "I… what am I?"

"Well, a nephilim, technically," he shrugged, disappointed with the way she was slowly processing what he was saying. "But not really a true nephilim. Not yet, anyway. Lucifer made me better, true, but only for you. He changed my grace, you know? After his experiments with that human soul. He found a way to make my grace darker, stronger; your grace is the same. Except it never got to begin as pure. That's why we had to mark you, cupcake. Our marks are to help bring out that side of you. I've been cut off from Heaven for a very long time, you see, so at the time you were conceived in the womb of that human woman my grace was weaker than what it should have been. A soul, of all things, formed over your grace; so its buried in that pretty little body of yours, hiding away from the world. When the trinity is completed you'll be able to fully experience every ounce of what you really are. And you'll be able to control your grace, bend it to your will. And then we'll see the true extent of Lucifer's tempering."

"And you… you think that just because of that I'm going to help you and the Devil do what? Take over the world?" Alex pulled herself away from him, staring down at him angrily.

"Of course not," Beelzebub smiled at her condescendingly, as if he were talking to her as a child. "I expect you, my little abomination, to help us kill the humans that blemish this beautiful world."

"I will never do that," she spat vehemently, her eyes shining in anger. "I will never help you kill any human, let alone them all."

He shrugged, still smiling condescendingly as he watched her. "Not yet. Not with that ugly excuse for a soul you have covering your grace," he conceded to her, grabbing her arm again as he spoke. "If you would have given in that easily I would have been disappointed."

The room began morphing around them, colors swirling and blurring. When it settled back down Alex glanced around, wondering where Beelzebub had taken them this time… It was a dark stone room without any windows or doors. The only light came from an open furnace in the corner of the room, a fire raging inside of it.

"I hope you're as excited as I am for some mommy-daughter bonding time," Beelzebub was grinning as he pulled her to the middle of the room, where a reclining medical chair sat. He threw her into it, the metal cold against the her hot flesh, strapping her to it with the heavy iron clasps on the arm rests. More restraints were placed across her ankles, chest, and forehead. And she was unable to fight him off. He was too strong for her to even hope to take on in a close quarters combat.

"Where is this place?" Alex asked him as he rolled a small table out of the corner of the room, the wheels squealing and grating. Her question was to try and keep her mind focused, away from the fear creeping up her spine. She was trapped with him, an insane angel, and she couldn't do anything about it. She really regretted ever deciding to leave for her stupid 'vacation'. Her dad was right after all. It was stupid to just go off alone. And then she had been such a dick the last time she actually saw him. And her brothers… she had no idea what they would have thought, seeing her disappear from in front of them like that. And poor Bobby…

"We're in your head," Beelzebub responded nonchalantly, toying with the contents of the table. It was hard for her to see it behind him, but she could clearly hear the clanking of metal. "Your body isn't the problem, after all. Your dear old dad made sure it was capable of taking care of itself. It's your head that's the issue. Your pathetic excuse of a soul. We've gotta do a factory reset here, cupcake. You're all wrong." He turned to her, a menacingly sharp blade in his right hand, smiling as if they were just having a normal conversation. "How you even ended up with a soul is just beyond me. You're an abomination, darling. Half-human, half-angel. And half-angel means you get grace, not a soul. So stop being so greedy."

If they were in her head that meant her body was somewhere unknown... and if she were very lucky it was still with Bobby. His sarcastic tone and the realization that she could do literally nothing to change this situation sparked something in her. Something very human. Something… very Winchester. The will to fight, regardless of how shitty the situation was. "Maybe if you were still an angel I could be called half-angel and have whatever the hell grace is," she snapped, her fighting spirit returning to her, "But as far as I can see? You're just a demon now. A stupid, filthy demon. And do you know what I am? I'm a hunter. So when I get out of this, _Mom_, you had better start running. Because I will gank your sorry ass."

Beelzebub laughed in delight as he approached her, his knife angled directly above her left eye. "Oh, cuppycake, you say the sweetest things."

Her response was a scream. A sharp, pain-filled noise that she wasn't even aware she could make until Beelzebub began to torture her.

It took every ounce of her willpower to focus on the first song that came to mind, humming it the best she could amid the gut-wrenching pain.

**_So bye-bye, Miss American Pie_**  
**_Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry_**  
**_And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye_**  
**_Singin' "This'll be the day that I die_**  
**_This'll be the day that I die"_**

* * *

_Again, I apologize profusely for not getting this out yesterday. So I have a question for all of you lovely readers. The next chapter, how would you like it? I cut this off right there because I wasn't sure if everyone enjoyed torture scenes as much as I do. I could easily detail it, though. Or I could just hop into the aftermath in the next chapter. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnndddddddddddddd how do you guys feel about some Winchester siblings action? Well? _

_So leave me a review with your answers, if you wanna answer the questions. Or leave me a review with constructive criticism. I'll love either. _

_And I'll love you regardless of your review. ;) _

_Also, might I recommend you all look up the rest of the lyrics to American Pie by Don Mclean? ;D It's a good song, but... well, you'll get the idea of it if you listen to the song or have heard it before. Maybe._


	16. Chapter 16: Family Matters

"Did you write the book of love

And do you have faith in God above

If the Bible tells you so?

Now do you believe that rock and roll

Can music save your mortal soul

And can you teach me how to dance real slow?"

"American Pie" by Don McLean

Time was more of a flimsy concept than an actual constraint. Keeping track of it was never an option. There was simply no way to do it. There were no light sources other than the flickering flames of the dark iron furnace in the corner and the only time they changed was when Beelzebub heated an instrument of torture in it. The only reprieve came when he got bored and left intermittently. He didn't leave her to her own musings, of course. He left her in some sick mind game or another slow torture. She had even been waterboarded once when he was especially bored.

One of the few things that kept Alex going was that she knew the wretched pain her body was experiencing wasn't real. It was all in her head. She couldn't die here. And that meant she could get out of it… somehow. She had tried figuring out when he left her alone to his psychological attempts to break her. She was able to, for the most part, ignore the screams of her brothers and father. It wasn't real. None of it was.

Except this one was especially bad. He had left her alone again, bound to that god-awful chair that she was sure would be forever imprinted with her body and blood. Standing in front of her was her older brother. Dean was holding a long, bloody carving blade in his right hand, staring darkly down at her. He had been systematically slicing her apart-again-and she was struggling to ignore the icy jabs he had been throwing her way while he did.

He approached her again, grinning sadistically as he raised the blade above his head and positioned it to stab through her chest again. "This isn't real," she whispered to herself, wincing already. Her brother's green eyes could never have such a cruel glean in them. He loved to have fun. Like her. They had fun together. He was Ted Nugent and she was Pat Benatar. They had one of the most intense thumb wrestling matches she had ever been a part of together. He had accepted her and tried to get to know her. He wanted them to be more like actual siblings. He was protective over her. He was-

He plunged the knife into her sternum again, twisting slightly and laughing as she screamed.

"Dean…" she groaned, writhing in pain as he twisted the blade even more, "Dean, please stop…"

And then the most unexpected thing happened. He stopped. He let go of the knife and stepped back. He still had that same evil face that was almost a constant when he was a part of her abuse, but there was something wrong. Maybe not so much wrong as different-pleasantly so.

"Alex," his voice was like a whisper that echoed around the room, not coming from any particular source. "What the hell, Alex. You disappeared and we had no idea where you were. And we still wouldn't have known if we hadn't had to come to Bobby's." He sounded particularly troubled, but she was still mystified by the fact that the almost constant torture she had grown accustomed to had stopped. "Dad, he's… he's in trouble, Alex." Dean paused, then a snorted out a sarcastic and depressing laugh. "You're not even able to hear me right now. I got a feeling that if you could you'd probably tell me to stop being such a bitch."

She smiled at the familiarity. She probably would call him a bitch for it. Because it was dumb to whine about it and not do something to help it.

"But, uh, yeah," he continued on in uncertainty, "I just uh… figured you'd wanna know. We got this gun, Alex. The Colt. You know, the magical kill-all gun that was supposed to be a fairytale? It's real. We got it. And The Demon, yellow-eyes, he found out about it. Told dad he had to give it to him or he'd kill any person who ever helped us. He got a fake gun and was gonna trick 'em but it went wrong, Alex. They got him. They've got dad, and we're trying to get him back, but this whole thing is shit."

The room around her started to blur together as she listened intently to what he was saying.

"Something's up with Sam, too… and damn it, Alex. Why the hell didn't you just say something was up? We could've helped, damn it!" His sudden anger startled her. But it wasn't as startling as when she felt something strange… something oddly invigorating. And apparently it surprised him in that same way, because his tone changed drastically. "Alex? Alex, hey, you in there?"

She felt two warm, strong hands gripping onto her shoulders and gently shaking her, and for once it was actually a pleasant feeling. The cold room she had been in for so long was nearly gone. She was close to actually waking up. To being in control of her body again. "Dean…" she felt her lips barely move, the sound hardly audible even in her own mind as she spoke.

"Hey," he replied gruffly, moving a hand from her shoulder to her cheek and moving her head to look at her more closely. "Hey, I'm right here. Can you open your eyes? Sam! Bobby! She's waking up!"

She winced as he shouted, presumably into the next room. It was especially loud. When she slowly opened her eyes, blinking several times to focus her brown orbs on the face in front of her, she knew why it had been so loud. He was barely even four inches away from her. "Dude…" she spoke lightly, locking eyes with him. "Personal space."

A relieved smile broke out on his face, moving backwards away from her as the sounds of thumping feet came towards the door. She looked past Dean, over his shoulder, to where her obnoxiously tall younger brother now stood beside of the scruffy bearded old man in a trucker cap she had grown to consider a second father. Both looked as relieved as Dean had before they came in (now Dean was trying to act all macho and like he hadn't been in the midst of some sort of weird breakdown before she woke up).

"Alex, hey," Sam spoke up first, moving forward to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. "How you feeling? Anything weird?"

She knew that out of all of them Sam probably knew the most about whatever could potentially be wrong with someone if they'd been out for an indefinite amount of time, but it was still annoying that he was scrutinizing her so closely. "A little weak; a little freaked. Thirsty," she tried moving her arms to push herself into a seated position when she felt a small tug in the crook of her left arm. She cringed when she looked at it and saw the needle attached to a tube that led up to an IV bag. The liquid was clear and she knew it was just some sort of supplement to keep her alive, but the sight of a needle in her skin… she reached over and tugged it out, much to the chagrin of Sam and Bobby.

"Dang it girl, you've been out for a week now; you need them fluids," Bobby scolded her, standing behind Dean, who was sat in a chair beside of the bed.

"Just a week?" Alex asked curiously, applying a small amount of pressure to the small hole where the needle had been in her arm. She wasn't about to let it be put back in and when Sam tried she shoved his hands away.

"Yes just a week," Bobby snapped, obviously he had been distressed over the past week. He had bags under his eyes from what she could assume were long nights trying to figure out what the hell had happened. "What the hell was all that, Alex? The boys said you've been tangled up with demons and you just up and pulled a disappearing act on 'em Ohio. And that you were a stiff in Nashville. So start talking."

Alex mused inwardly for a moment as she considered the fact that it had only been a week in the real world since Beelzebub took her. It had felt like so much longer; even longer than when she went to Hell. She'd probably need Beelzebub to actually tell her how long it had been, but she'd guess in the hundreds. Of course, constant torture did funny things when it came to keeping track of time. "Well, a week isn't so bad," she deflected, struggling into a seated position with her back leaned against the headboard of the bed she was on. "Better than three months, anyway. So what's going on? I heard you talking a little, Dean," she didn't specify how much she had heard to spare his dignity, "What's going on with dad?"

Dean locked eyes with her as she spoke. He could tell she desperately wanted the change in subject. And he was willing to oblige. Their dad was in serious trouble. He opened his mouth to start talking until Bobby slapped a hand harshly onto his shoulder.

"Oh no you don't," he gritted out, looking from Dean to Alex to Sam, the latter of which seemed to be more on Bobby's side. "Don't you give in to those doe eyes of hers, Dean. Start talkin', girl. Now."

Her attention snapped from Dean to Bobby, an uncharacteristically cold glare gracing her eyes. "How about no, you self-righteous ass?" the harsh tone of her voice surprised all of them, even her. "You couldn't possibly begin to fathom anything that's been happening to me lately." The analytically frigid tone of her voice was frightening to her, but it was all she could do without just yelling at them. And it was true. They were all too young to understand. She had been through more than any of them in the course of three months than they had in their entire lives. And she had grown more in those three months than in her life before she was marked. Hell, she was over a hundred years old now; in her mind, at least. Her soul was older, had been through more. And she was hesitant to accept the fact that she had changed, even though it was glaringly obvious.

"So let's cut the shit here, Bobby," she finally continued, turning her attention back to Dean. He and Sam had been sharing an incredulous look together. Bobby was just silently dumbfounded. "Start talking, Dean. Where is dad and what has happened?"

Dean broke eye contact with Sam as Sam barely nodded his agreement to whatever silent plan they had just formed. "Uh," he began, looking back at Sam again and then to Alex. "Don't worry about it. You need to rest. It was stupid to try and throw it at you so soon after you woke up."

She rolled her eyes and his and Sam's pathetic plot to try and keep her out of the loop. She was grateful to Dean for having somehow pulled her out of the personal hell Beelzebub made for her in her own mind, but she wasn't about to be sidelined. "So I heard you say more than I let on," she coolly informed them, smiling when both Sam and Dean turned their attention back to her. "You guys found The Colt? That's impressive. And your yellow-eyed nemesis got wind of it and demanded dad to give it to him, dad got a fake one, plan failed, dad's been captured. Did I get the more important parts?"

Sam shot an accusatory glare at Dean, who just shrugged. How was he supposed to know she'd hear all that? "Look, Alex," Sam began softly, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. "We can handle what's going on. You don't gotta worry about it. How about we figure out what's going on with you lately? We can help, you know?"

She let out an unladylike snort, shaking her head. "Sure you can, Sammy," she remarked sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Look, ignore me. Let's focus on this one little thing you two seemed to have forgotten. Now, I don't know where the gun is now, but I'm fairly certain you two are the only ones dad would trust enough to give it to. So it's here. And you said yellow-eyes was after it, yeah? So don't you think he'd have tracked you here or one of his minions will find you soon?"

The boys exchanged another lengthy look, obviously trying to decide what to do. None of them had even noticed Bobby had left the room. Alex idly rubbed across Beelzebub's mark on her left wrist, no longer afraid of her brothers seeing it. Chances were that they had already. But her patience with their exclusive all-eyes conversation was running low.

"I read a book here once," she drawled out when they continued to be silent. "Had some strange sigils in them. Called them Devil's Traps. Supposed to catch a demon and render it powerless if the demon walks into it. Of course, demons probably run at the sight of them, so you'd need to be clever about where you put it."

Finally the boys seemed to come to a conclusion as they shared half-nods, Sam getting up and leaving the room without saying another word. It left just Dean and Alex in there, in one of the most estranged staring contests.

"Alex," he began, shaking his head when she rolled her eyes again. "Damn it, Alex. I don't know what the hell is going on with you, but this is stupid. You do realize that, right? We're family. If something's going on you tell us and we help you. That's how family works."

"So what about the reverse of that?" She rebutted, frowning at him. "Dad's in trouble. I can help."

"No. Not happening," Dean's tone was authoritative and final. "Something big's going on. With dad, Sam, and you. I know what's happening with dad, Sam doesn't even know what's going on with him, but you? I think you know more than you're telling us. And as much as I hate to say it, Alex, but until you tell me about whatever is going on I can't let you help us. Not with how things are. We can't afford to be keeping secrets, damn it."

Alex exhaled slowly, willing herself to remain calm. She couldn't blow up at him over it. He was completely in the right. Even if she could understand what he was saying underneath all of that: he didn't trust her. Of course, she had no idea he actually trusted her before. They hadn't really been around each other that much. But now he really didn't trust her. And he was telling her that to her face. He thought she was a risk. And she was. She wasn't even human. If she told them about the things happening to her… they'd hunt her. She'd be the hunted. It was better off if they went on in ignorance.

"Alright, whatever," Dean grumbled, standing out of his chair forcefully, the chair wobbling on its back legs as he did. "I can't force you to tell me anything."

"Well, you're right about that," she murmured quietly, staring up at him cautiously. It had been a favorite of Beelzebub's to use her older brother to try and corrupt her. She was adamant that he hadn't succeeded. But she wasn't so sure anymore.

Dean's brows furrowed as he stared down at her, trying to figure out her words by just looking at her. But she was carefully guarded. And that bothered him. She was his little sister, and he knew something had happened, but she refused to tell him. "Just… stay in here. I'll get Sam to bring you something to drink," he grumbled, shaking his head as he retreated from the room.

She raised an eyebrow as he left, wondering if he really thought she was just going to lay there. There was no way she could do that if their dad was in the hands of a demon. Especially when she had a better contact than Sam and Dean did. So she pulled herself out of bed, wobbling only slightly on her feet before she regained her balance and moved over to where her duffel bag was. The contents were scattered out across the top of the dresser, but she wasn't worried about that. She only bothered changing her shirt into a ruby red tee, grabbing the phone and credit card. She stuffed the card into the back pocket of the black jeans she was wearing and wandered over to a power socket in the wall, shoving the end of a charger into it and then into her phone.

It buzzed into life as she heard a dog's barking abruptly stop outside. She paused when she flipped it open to listen to the commotion downstairs, wondering if they needed any help, but when it died down she just shrugged and continued what she was doing. She opened her contacts and the very first was the one she needed: Crowley. She had a couple of things to work out with him. She pressed call and moved over to the door of the room, shoving the chair Dean had occupied under the handle to keep her brothers out in case one of them came upstairs.

* * *

_Hey guys! I think I may be transitioning to a chapter every other day while my schedule gets a little hectic. Sorry!_

_Leave me a review and lemme know how I did with this chapter. I hope Dean isn't very OoC. _

_And ruh-roh! Alex is acting weird. :(_

_So I had a couple of guest reviews on the last chapter and thought I'd address them here. You guys should get an account so I can directly message my replies to you!_

**_Guest:_**_ I hope you liked the Winchester action I brought in! Don't worry, there's more to come in the next chapter._

**_deangirl2333: _**_Hey! Get an account with your spiffy name! :) That way we can message directly. And as for them ever finding out? Well... ;)_


	17. Chapter 17: S01E22 Devil's Trap part 1

"Kitten," the English voice she hadn't heard in such a very long time drawled out over the line, actually making her smile. Crowley had actually sounded surprised she called. "You're a very tricky mynx to track down, did you know? Even with that lovely little mark I gave you."

"Well, cupcake," she drawled, wincing when she realized she sounded just like Beelzebub when she said that, "I've been quite the busy woman. Look, you and I need to have a chit-chat. I'm in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, at Singer Salvage Yard. Second story, first room on the left."

"What a coincidence," she heard a phone snap closed behind her, making her turn around to see the smirking demon that was now in the room. He was still dashing in his expensive black suit, his dark brown hair trimmed properly without a single one out of line. "I've also been needing to have a little chat with you, kitten."

"I'm sure," Alex sauntered up to him, swinging her hips as she did. She needed to be especially coy for her impromptu plan. He raised an eyebrow at her approach, hands in the pockets of his suit pants as he looked her over. "First, we're gonna talk about that deal I made with you," she gently laid a hand on his chest, smiling at him. "Because, darling, it's now obsolete. I found out everything I needed to know about Beelzebub and Astaroth on my own. Your end of it fell through."

The smirk he had been wearing at her faux-sexual approach faltered as he gave her an intense gaze, his smoldering dark brown eyes looking into her own brown eyes, which were lighter in hue. "I could just as easily say your end fell through as well, darling," his smirk grew back, an eyebrow quirked at her. "I tried to contact you not long after our little rendezvous in that motel room. I needed you to do something for your end of the deal."

She paused to think about it a moment, her hand coming to a rest in the middle of his chest. True, she hadn't found out much by that time. That was right before she went to Hell. So now it was time for her plan B. "Fair point," she conceded, wrapping her fist around the material of his shirt tightly and pulling him to her. "Now let me enlighten you to my plan B." They were only a few inches apart now. Crowley was only looking at her with intrigue and was possibly turned on by the change of events. His cocky attitude never left him though, and it was evident by the smug smirk on his face that he wasn't worried about her 'plan B'. She smiled at him, moving her head beside of his, her rosy lips resting by his left ear as she spoke. "Crowley, darling, do you really know what I am? Because I don't think you do. I think it was a bluff. So allow me to be the bearer of bad news to you: I'm part-angel. More specifically, I'm Beelzebub's kid. And to be as specific as possible? Lucifer himself is the one who decided I needed to exist. So you tell me, King of the Crossroads Demons, how confident are you that they'll approve of you keeping a deal with me?"

She could practically hear the gears turning in his head over what she had told him. He was obviously weighing his options. He could either keep the deal up because of how powerful she apparently was or he could risk pissing off a couple of real angels, and one of them was the Devil himself. "Fine," he conceded finally, snapping his fingers on his right hand as he frowned at her. "The deal's off. Now if you'll excuse me…"

"I told you that we had to talk about a couple of things," Alex interrupted him, not letting go of his suit when he tried to pull away. He grimaced at the wrinkles she was putting into its perfectly ironed material. "We've only spoken about one so far. Now that the deal is old news let's get on to real business, yeah? We're friends, you and me. Of course by that I mean we're as damn near to friends as either of us are possible of being."

"Oh, spare me the drawn out speech, kitten. Get to the point," Crowley snapped at her, rolling his eyes and tugging his suit out of her hand to straighten it out.

"You and I can come to a mutually beneficial agreement. Without deals. You do me a favor. I do you a favor. Yeah?" Alex smiled at him, throwing her things back into the duffel bag. She had to get out before her brothers or Bobby realized she was planning to leave again. Besides, she was sure they'd catch up. They were after the same thing: their dad.

"And what is it you had in mind?" Crowley asked, entertaining her idea for the moment. It did, after all, have a beneficial side.

"Apparently my dad's been kidnapped by a yellow-eyed demon," she zipped the bag up and threw the strap around her shoulder, turning to raise an eyebrow at him. She was still barefoot, considering there were no shoes around in her size, but that didn't matter too much to her. "You know any that fit that description?"

"Azazel," Crowley rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. The Winchester girl had been a bit of fun at first, sure, but he wasn't liking this new confidence thing she was sporting. "Let me guess… you want me to find out where they are, right? For a flimsy promise of a "favor" later on?"

She smirked at him, strolling up and smoothing out his tie for him. "You'll find that I'm good at favors," she looked up at him through her lashes, seeing him simper. "I have three things on my to-do list: get my dad, kill Astaroth and Beelzebub, and repay my debt to you. And if I do it in that order, well… imagine what kind of power it'll take to kill those two. And then look at the person capable of it. She'll be indebted… to you."

His arms snaked around her hips and tugged her closer to him, their bodies flush against each other. "You know, kitten, you're absolutely infuriating," he drawled out, his fingers digging into her, "Every time I've seen you you've been completely different. But I am very fond of these pretty new claws of yours. They suit you better than that little scared girl thing you had going on. So I'll find out where they've got Papa Winchester for you. I'll give you a ring when I do."

"You'd better expedite it, darling," Alex told him, running a hand up his chest to his neck. "I'm not very patient these days."

"I always work fast," his voice had gone down a notch in pitch, and she could feel it rumble in his chest. "And you've got to visit me after you do whatever stupid family thing it is you're doing. I'll text the address."

And then he was gone, leaving her groping the air in front of her. She let out a relieved sigh, running a hand through her hair. She was surprised that it wasn't greasy even though she hadn't actually showered in a week, considering that was how long she'd been under with Beelzebub.

Then a frantic knocking banged on the door to the bedroom. "Alex, open the damned door," Bobby called through it, and the urgency in her voice pushed her to move forward and remove the chair to let him in. He rushed past her to her window, pouring a thick line of salt across the bottom of it before turning to look at her. "You planning on going somewhere?" he asked her as he saw her bag swung across her body. He was acting pretty coldly towards her, which made her frown.

"Yeah, actually," she readjusted the strap on her shoulder, still frowning at him. "I'm going to get dad. You guys are gonna take too long."

"Damn it, girl, don't be stupid," he took a step towards her but stopped abruptly, noticing a fine yellow powder on the ground at her feet. He crouched to run his fingers through it and smell, grimacing as he identified it. "Sulfur?"

"Yeah," she readily admitted, shrugging. So what if they knew she had a demon contact? It was useful. And so far Crowley had been infinitely better than the two angels that marred her life. "I have friends in low places, Bobby," she bit off, unable to decipher the way he was looking at her. And… well, considering how often things went to hell (literally and not) around her, it wasn't that bad of an idea to force him away from her. That way he couldn't become a target. "Shouldn't you finish salting the windows?"

He hesitated only slightly, shaking his head as he rushed past her. His plaid and trucker cap self disappearing around the corner.

It was hard for her to do that. Bobby had always been there for her, done so much for her… but it was the only way she could possibly repay him. She had to keep him out of her problems. They were too much for her to handle, let alone her family. The more they were in the dark the better off they were. So with a final glance around the room she had stayed in periodically through her life she went downstairs, her bare feet gently padding as she went. She could hear her brothers talking to themselves the closer she got and paused, steeling herself for what she had to do. She had to distance herself from them. She had to push them away. She had to… even if she wasn't exactly sure why.

So she took a deep breath before moving the rest of the way down the stairs, rounding the corner to see in the main room. She was only mildly surprised to see a blonde woman tied to a chair in the center of the room, a Devil's Trap above her. It most certainly wasn't the strangest thing she had seen lately. But when her brothers quiet talking suddenly stopped she knew they had realized she was in the room with them.

She faced them, crossing her arms as she stared them down. They were all three silent. She knew they had already noticed her bag. They knew she wanted to leave. But they weren't willing to let her go. Not until she told them what was going on. So they were at a silent impasse.

Until the demon they had tied up spoke. "You know, if you wanted to tie me up all you had to do was ask."

The Winchester trio turned their attention to the blonde leather-clad demoness, each of them with similarly annoyed looks on their faces.

"Well, never let anyone tell you three there's no resemblance," she remarked sarcastically, looking between the three of them. "Name's Meg, by the way. Doubt your brothers were gonna introduce me."

"Doubtful," Alex responded tightly, unsure of how to continue. "Sorry about them. For the, you know, the rough treatment," she motioned up at the trap on the ceiling. "But boys will be boys."

Bobby came into the room as the girls conversed, looking from them to Sam and Dean. "I salted the doors and windows. If there are any demons out there they ain't gettin' it."

Dean nodded at Bobby, moving around them all to stand directly in front of Meg and glower down at her. "Where's our father, Meg?"

"You didn't ask very nice," she responded curtly, smirking up at him.

"Where's our father, bitch?" Dean retaliated just as quickly, causing Alex to snort. It was, after all, very clever. And she applauded how quick on the draw he was.

"Jeez, you kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh wait, I forgot. You don't," Meg was very snarky and ballsy, intentionally riling Dean up.

Dean took the bait, lunging at her and placing both of his hands on the arms of the chair, his face right in hers. "You think this is a friggin' game?!" he yelled at her, his frustrations over the current situation coming to light. "Where is he?! What did you do to him?"

Meg grinned at him, "He died screaming. I killed him myself."

That was Dean's breaking point. He glared down at her, pure hatred lining his features, and slapped her. Alex winced when it made contact with Meg's cheek.

"That's kind of a turn on. You hitting a girl," Meg was still smirking, his slap barely having bothered her at all. Alex had no idea what the story with this demon was, but she knew it was more than she had been told so far.

"You're no girl," Dean replied vehemently, spitting out the words as if they were poison. He was obviously fed up with her shit.

"Dean," Bobby's gruff voice held an authoritative tone as he stood from his seat, motioning for them to follow him into the kitchen. They all obliged, huddling in the doorway and speaking quietly so that Meg, who was watching them, couldn't hear.

"You okay?" Sam asked Dean, watching him worriedly.

"She's lying," Dean frowned, glancing from Sam to Alex. "He's not dead."

"Dean, you gotta be careful with her," Bobby chastised, looking over the three siblings' shoulders to where the demon was tied up. "Don't hurt her."

"Bobby's right," Alex butted in, locking eyes with Dean when his attention turned to her. "Sure, that demon is in there, but so's that human girl."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked them, looking between Bobby and Alex when they shared a knowing look.

Alex was about to answer when her phone started ringing in her back pocket, causing her to raise an eyebrow and pull it out. The caller ID had "Crowley ;)" across it, causing her to roll her eyes. "I need to take this," she muttered to her brothers and Bobby, all of whom were watching her incredulously. She shrugged at their unspoken questions as she flipped it open and put it up to her ear, walking away from them and to the door that led outside. "Crowley?" she asked into the line quietly, not expecting him to have called so soon.

"Hello to you too, kitten," Crowley's English accent drawled out over the phone, "My dogs found out where dear old daddy is. I've texted you the address already. And mine as well. Don't forget our little rendezvous."

"I'll try not to," she responded honestly, half-listening to the situation that had started again with Meg in the other room. "But don't expect me anytime soon. This is likely gonna take a few days."

Alex snapped her phone shut before Crowley could respond, turning to look through the doorway at the scene in the other room. Sam had a book open and was reading from it, an exorcism ritual, and Dean was still trying to extract information from Meg in the meantime. She glanced back at her phone, noting the flash telling her that she had two messages. She could just tell them that she already knew where their dad was… but if she could get there first she could keep them out of harm's way. She could handle a few demons. Or she felt like she could, anyway.

So she carefully opened the door, backing out of it quietly and latching it back into place. The salt line was damaged… but she was fairly certain that the demon Meg had come alone to Singer Salvage. Foolish move on her part. She had underestimated the abilities of the Winchesters.

Alex successfully snuck out of the house while her brothers and Bobby were busy exorcising the demon. She moved around to the back of the house, around piles of towers and rusted cars, looking at the message in her phone as she did. Sunrise Apartments. Jefferson City, Missouri. That was where her dad was being held. And that was where she was going.

She glanced up when she got around to a more clear area in the salvage yard, seeing a black tarp placed across a familiar shape. With a smile she jogged over to it, pulling the tarp off to reveal her Shelby GT500. "Oh, sweetie, I've missed you," she whispered, running a hand over the red paint as she moved to the driver side door. She popped it open and tossed her duffel into the backseat, pulling down the sun visor and grinning when a set of keys plopped down into her lap. She could always count on Bobby to be predictable.

With an even larger grin she pulled the door shut, thrusting the key into the ignition. When the engine roared to life her eyes lit up and she threw it into drive, peeling out of the salvage yard before her brothers or Bobby had a chance to run out and stop her when they heard the engine. If she obeyed all the speed limits it would be a seven hour drive… but lately she felt like living dangerously was the least of her worries, so she revved the engine and zoomed down the old highway. Her hair whipped around her as she rolled a window down and flipped on the radio, and she smiled when one of her favorite songs started playing.

_"She's a Killer Queen_

_Gunpowder, gelatin_

_Dynamite with a laser beam_

_Guaranteed to blow your mind_

_Anytime_

_Ooh, recommended at the price_

_Insatiable an appetite_

_Wanna try ?"_

-"Killer Queen" by Queen

* * *

_Hey guys! New chapter! Yay! _

_If you haven't heard the song at the end I highly recommend it. It's catchy :D_

_We're closing in on the end of this, did you realize? We've got this episode to get through and then one or two solo chapters... then season 2! Exciting, yes?  
_

_Leave a review if you don't mind! It'd be ever so kind. :) You guys are all lovely, really._

_And what do you think about Alex? ;) Pretty weird, right? And infuriating, no doubt. GAH! Just tell them, Alex! _

_But that would be too easy, huh? _

_And just how do you guys think her going off on her own to get to their dad will go? :)_


	18. Chapter 18: S01E22 Devil's Trap part 2

"Now for ten years we've been on our own

And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone

But that's not how it used to be

When the jester sang for the king and queen

In a coat he borrowed from James Dean

And a voice that came from you and me…"

"American Pie" by Don McLean

* * *

In true Winchester fashion Alex had arrived in Missouri in less than five hours instead of seven. By her estimate, if her brothers had actually gotten the demon to tell them where their dad was, she still had an hour until they showed up. Maybe less. But definitely thirty minutes or more. That was all the time she needed, though.

She slowly pulled around the corner of the street where the apartment building was located, parking on the curb across the street. It was clever of the demons to use such a public place, where so many people lived. Any of them could be demons. She carefully observed all of the people walking around, playing, doing normal human things. Any of them were potentially going to kill her. "Well," she murmured, swinging her door open and putting her still bare feet onto the warm pavement of the road. "No time like the present."

She had decided on the drive there what her best course of action was going to be. She was gonna wing it. She had managed to bend Crowley around after throwing out there what she was capable of. Maybe these demons would feel similarly. So Alex shut her car door, locking it and turning to give the apartment building another once-over. She was going in with nothing but her car keys and some bobby pins in her hair. No weapons. More than likely, if they realized she was another Winchester, they'd at least catch her and take her to her dad for her. She could figure the rest out then.

She could feel eyes on her as she approached the door of the building. It was slightly unnerving her, but she continued on as purposefully and confidently as she could. Reckless, but… all she had going for her. She didn't have the time or backup for a halfway decent plan. The heat of the sidewalk was uncomfortable on her feet as she moved up the stairs and into the building, the relief of the cool tile quelling any memories of Hell. She was completely surprised she had managed to actually get in the building without being stopped. Maybe the demons didn't want to cause such a public scene either. Now her only issue was figuring exactly where her dad was being held. That was probably the only hitch in her plan. There was no telling behind which door, on which floor, was her dad. Her brothers might've had an idea if they were with her. But they weren't with her.

So she stood a little inside of the lobby, glancing around and trying to figure out where a demon would keep a captive in an apartment building. The yellow-eyed demon her brothers and father had been tangling with was pretty peculiar for choosing such a place.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a short blonde man moved into her line of vision, less than three feet away from her. Alex stared at him in wonder. He looked like a man, sure… but this close she could see something different. Something… twisted and black.

"The Winchester sister," the man spoke up, his human face and true face grinning sadistically. "Wasn't told to be expecting you."

Alex quickly rushed through her thoughts, trying to come to a safe resting place in them. Obviously she was seeing the real demon beneath the meatsuit. It looked similar to the demons she had seen while in Hell. So she had to play the confidence card. She had to get to her dad and then figure out how to get them out of this demon filled building. "I expect not, you pus-filled sore," she borrowed an insult she remembered Beelzebub using to describe demons once. It peripherally bothered her that she kept doing things like him. "I've been rather tied up in my own problems for a while now. But you know why I'm here, surely. You can't be that stupid."

The demon puffed up indignantly at her insults, taking a threatening step towards her. "You're here for your pathetic excuse for a dad," he sneered at her, "Well too bad. You're not leaving here and neither is he."

He reached out and grabbed her arm and she allowed him to, raising an eyebrow as he began tugging her up a stairwell. That had worked better than she had even expected it to. But she was running out of time until her brothers showed up. She had to work quicker.

The demon toted her up a couple of stories and to a nondescript room, making her thankful that he had been so kind to take her exactly here she needed to be. She'd have never found such an ordinary place on her own. Crowley hadn't been kind enough to give her the door number. She was frisked by a demon in a female meatsuit when they realized that she could have had some sort of holy water or something on her person, but when all they found were her car keys they decided she was safe enough.

And that's when they dragged her into the room they were keeping her dad in. John Winchester was on a bed, tied to it and looking a little worse for wear, but breathing. The relief washed over her in waves when she saw his chest steadily moving. But when his eyes opened and he looked directly at her, not speaking, she began to worry. "Dad?" she asked tentatively, trying to pull away from the strong grip the demon had on her arm.

When he grinned at her, a thing she had rarely ever seen him do, she realized with dread what had happened. "'Fraid not, sweetie," her dad's voice spoke, but it was a demon controlling it.

"Azazel?" Alex asked with a frown, her brows furrowing as she tried to concentrate harder on him to see his true form. She had seen glimpses of the other demons since she had been grabbed by the one in the lobby, but she couldn't see this one. Was it because he was stronger? She wasn't sure. But it was giving her a migraine trying to see his true form.

"So you do know me," he smiled at her. The fact that he was in her dad grated on her nerves. It wasn't right. Her dad was still in there, somewhere, a prisoner in his own body. "We never really got to be introduced."

"I've never even met you," Alex corrected him, slowly counting backwards from ten in her mind to calm herself down.

"You just don't remember it," Azazel informed her, still smiling at her. "You were still a sniveling little infant when I met you. Beelzebub made it very clear that I shouldn't mess with his precious little bundle of joy. Your brother, sure. But not you."

"What do you mean my brother?" she snapped, taking a step forwards and being sharply pulled back by the demon that hadn't let her go. "What the hell are you doing to my family?"

"It's all a part of the plan, Alex," he told her knowingly, being obtuse on purpose. "You're a part of it too, you realize. Your entire family. You know, funniest thing, but your dad's awake in here and for some reason he thought you were dead. He blamed me, even."

She was about to respond when a fire alarm started to go off, the shrillness of it making her cringe.

"And that would be your brothers," Azazel winked at her, laying his head back on the pillow. "Now, I know Beelzebub said to leave you alone, but… well, I can't have you go blabbing to your brothers that I'm in John." He nodded at the demon who was holding her and its grip tightened on her arm, painfully so. "No hard feelings," was the last thing she heard as she was thrown into the wall to her right, the demon's fists following after with several quick blows to her head. Her last thoughts before the blackness of unconsciousness consumed her were curses to herself for letting Azazel distract her long enough for the other demon to get the jump on her.

* * *

_Okay, I know this was a bit slow and boring... but important! It'll all pick up in the next chapter, I swear. It'll be super exciting. ;D So keep an eye out for it. And it'll have a lot more Winchester action... as a family. John and his kids. That'll be a first for all of them. ;)_

_As always, leave a review if you want. I know this isn't a spectacular chapter, but it had to be put out there. _


	19. Chapter 19: S01E22 Devil's Trap part 3

When slowly consciousness began to shine through the darkness Alex's first thought was that she was an idiot. She had gone in there thinking she was invincible and what did she get for it? She could feel the dull throbbing of her face already, and she definitely didn't want to look in a mirror and see the actual damage. It had been stupid. She had been overconfident. But more than anything she knew that she had a burning desire to force that bastard Azazel out of her dad. She wouldn't even need an exorcism if she did it right. She could feel the power bubbling in her left hand the more she thought about it. Vade Ad Inferos she recited to herself, hoping to remembered the words correctly. It had worked before, so long ago, before she knew what she was. And now that she did know what she was? Maybe she could make it work again. And even control it. But she wasn't sure if it killed the human trapped inside...

When she began to feel more than just her mind returning to her she realized she wasn't in a heap on the floor like she had figured. She was on a bed. Her eyes opened slowly, taking in the wooden ceiling above her head. It was old and smelled like pine. Was she in a cabin?

She could hear talking in the other room and slowly pushed herself off the bed, straining to hear it. It sounded like Sam and Dean. And… their dad. Azazel. Her eyes widened as she quickly scrambled to the door, flinging it open and rushing out of the room she was in. The situation she was met with was not the one she had been expecting. Sam and Dean stood off to the side, together and away from their father. Dean had the Colt in his hand, aimed directly at John Winchester. Her brothers had figured it out on their own that their dad was being possessed.

"Alex," her dad, Azazel, called over to her when he noticed her, using a hand to motion at her brothers. "Could you please tell your brothers that I'm not possessed?"

She hesitated, a frown gracing her lips as she closely observed him. He did look normal… and he sounded normal, but… she shook her head, carefully moving herself around the room and to her brothers, a wide arc between her and their dad. "No. You were possessed when I found you. For all I know you still are." Her words were enough for her tense brothers, accepting that she was on their side in this. They were siblings; their solidarity still stood regardless of what happened. And she had to defer to their judgement on this. She had no idea what had happened while she was out, but Sam looked like he took a royal beating like she had.

"Fine," the possessed John frowned at them, looking disappointed. "You're all so sure. Go ahead. Kill me." He looked down, away from the eyes of the siblings and to the ground, waiting for Dean to pull the trigger.

Alex, Sam, and Dean all hesitated. None of them were prepared to act. Even if their dad was possessed, shooting him with the Colt would kill him and the demon. Dean obviously wouldn't do that… even Alex wouldn't risk performing her special little exorcism or whatever without knowing what it did to the vessel. Dean held the gun steadily aimed at their dad but didn't pull the trigger. How could he? It was their dad.

"I thought so." He looked up at them, his eyes no longer the same brown shade as Alex's. They were yellow. The demon was still in him.

Sam lunged into action first, diving at him but was flung at a wall. Dean was thrown next, the Colt dropping from his hand as he was. When he turned to Alex, flipping his wrist at her, she grinded her teeth and stood her ground. She could feel the pressure push against her, the pain causing her to wince, but it made Azazel smile affectionately at her.

"You're certainly stronger than I thought you would be," he commended her. "Beelzebub has done some work with you. But you're still nothing compared to me." With a second twist of his wrist Alex finally went sailing through the air and into the wall beside of Sam, groaning as she hit.

Satisfied now that he had all three of the Winchester kids held tightly Azazel stooped down and picked up the Colt, admiring it slightly. "What a pain in the ass this thing's been."

"It's you, isn't it?" Sam asked him, glancing from Dean to Alex worriedly. "We've been looking for you a long time."

"Well, you found me," Azazel grinned at him, the expression all around odd on their dad's face.

"But the holy water?" Sam asked, trying to figure out when their dad had actually been possessed.

"You think something like that works on something like me?" he taunted Sam, shaking his head.

Sam tried to fight against the hold Azazel had him pinned to the wall with. "I'm gonna kill you!"

"Oh, that'd be a neat trick. In fact," he moved over to a table near him, sitting the Colt down on it, "here. Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy."

Alex glanced at Sam in confusion, wondering what Azazel meant. Sam was obviously concentrating on the gun intensely, trying to make it do something. It made her wonder what exactly her brothers had been going through with this demon. It was obviously much more than she had realized.

"Well, this is fun," Azazel commented lightly when Sam couldn't make the gun move like he wanted, walking over to the window beside of where Dean was being held. It was so odd to see their father's body being controlled by something else. "I could've killed you a hundred times today, but this… this is worth the wait." He sighed and turned to Dean, who had started struggling on the wall. "Your Dad. He's in here with me. Trapped in his own meatsuit. He says "hi", by the way. He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood."

"Let him go!" Alex finally spoke up, fighting against the hold Azazel had on her, but she could barely move. She was surprised that Sam and Dean had been able to struggle against it so much.

Dean glanced to Alex and then back to Azazel, frowning. "Let him go, or I swear to God-"

"What? What are you and your God gonna do?" Azazel taunted, looking from Dean to Alex. "You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice. You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter." He moved closer to Dean, his eyes narrowed. "The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand."

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean watched the demon possessing their dad warily, unbelieving of what he was saying.

"What?" Azazel asked incredulously, glancing at Sam and Alex and then back to Dean. "You're the only one who can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?" he smiled at Dean. "Oh, that's right. I forgot. I did. Still, two wrongs don't make a right."

"You son of a bitch," Dean spat him at vehemently, anger burning in his eyes. Azazel's words even made Alex cringe. It was cold.

"I wanna know why," Sam suddenly spoke up, making Azazel's attention turn to him. "Why'd you do it?"

"You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?" He asked for clarification, smirking at him.

"Yeah," Sam affirmed, frowning.

Azazel turned back to Dean, "You know, I never told you this, but Sam was going to ask her to marry him." He backed up towards Sam, still smiling. "Been shopping for rings and everything." He turned his attention back to Sam, his yellow eyes dancing maliciously. "You want to know why? Because they got in the way."

Alex frowned at what was happening. There was so much going on in her brothers' lives that she didn't know about. Then again, there was a lot going on in her life that they didn't know about either.

"In the way of what?" Sam asked, morbidly curious about what Azazel was talking about.

"My plans for you, Sammy… And all the children like you," Azazel smiled in a strangely prideful manner at him, obviously pleased with whatever plan he had been working on.

"Listen, you mind getting this over with, huh?" Dean asked sarcastically when he saw how Sam was reacting to what the demon had said. "'Cause I really can't stand the monologuing."

"It is pretty clichéd," Alex added, understanding that Dean was trying anything to keep the attention of the demon off of Sam. "I thought you had more of a flare for originality."

Azazel smirked at Alex before turning to Dean, walking back over to him. "Funny, but that's all in your M.O., isn't it? Masks all that nasty pain; masks the truth."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Dean questioned, glancing at Alex and then back to Azazel. He was glad she had tried to help, but he didn't want this asshole's attention on her either.

"You know," Azazel began, smirking at Dean, "you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don't need you. Not like you need them. Sam, he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you. And don't even get me started on Alex. Daddy's secret little love child. She's got more crazy going on with her than you've seen in your entire life."

Dean glanced at Alex again, once again wondering what was going on with her, before turning his attention back to the matter at hand. "I bet you're real proud of your kids, too, huh?" he was back to being sarcastic. It was what he was best at, after all. "Oh wait. I forgot. I wasted them."

Azazel took a step back, dropping his head to look at the ground. Dean was smiling at this point, trying to keep up his smartass facade that masked anything going on with him. But when Azazel looked back up Dean cried out in pain.

"Dean! No!" Sam cried out, fighting against the psychic hold on him again.

"Stop it!" Alex commanded, fighting the hold on her as well. Dean had started bleeding from his chest.

"I haven't forgotten about you. Don't get jealous." Azazel turned his gaze to Alex and she suddenly felt like there were claws inside of her chest, trying to dig their way out. She screamed from the sudden pain, her eyes closing tightly.

"Dad!" Dean suddenly shouted, pulling Azazel's attention back to him. "Dad, don't you let it kill us!" He was pleading with their dad who was trapped somewhere in there, hoping he could somehow overcome the possession.

Then the pain started again for both Dean and Alex, blood dripping freely from their chests. They were both alternating between groaning and shouting out because of the pain.

"Dean, Alex! No!" Sam screamed, desperately trying to break the hold Azazel had on him to help them.

Blood started to trickle out of Dean's mouth as he weakly looked at Azazel. "Dad… please…" he murmured before passing out, the blood loss and pain becoming too much.

The pain continued for Alex, because she wasn't lucky enough to just pass out from the torture. She was still groaning and bleeding, wishing she could've gone out as easily as Dean. She honestly had no idea how she wasn't even still awake.

"Stop," John Winchester suddenly whispered, gaining control back of his body. The psychic hold on them broke, Sam falling to his feet and Alex unceremoniously dropping the the floor. Dean was still unconscious and trapped against the wall, and Alex was starting to see the edges of black in her vision signifying that she was close to being out of it. "Stop it."

Sam dove forward as soon as he was free, grabbing the Colt off of the table. John turned to him, his eyes yellow again. Sam leveled the gun at him.

"You kill me, you kill daddy," Azazel taunted, smirking at him.

"I know," Sam said confidently, switching to aim at John's leg and firing. John fell as he shot him, also releasing Dean when he did. Sam scrambled over to where Dean fell, rolling him over to assess his wounds. "Dean? Dean, hey? Oh God, you've lost a lot of blood."

Alex fought against the unconsciousness that wanted to take her as she looked to where John had fallen. She could hear her brothers still talking between each other, which was a good sign that Dean had managed to come back enough to hold conversation. She slowly sat up, grimacing at the searing pain in her chest as she protectively wrapped her right arm around herself. She knew she'd not be able to stand, but she could definitely half-crawl, half-drag over to where John was. "Dad?" she asked quietly, gently gripping his arm with her left hand.

Sam came over beside of her, also looking down at their father. He had glanced at the state she was in with a wince, wondering how she had managed to take as much as Dean and still move around. "Dad? Dad?"

John suddenly jolted awake, looking from Alex to Sam, his eyes brown once again. "Sammy!" he spoke quickly, locking eyes with him. "It's still alive. It's still inside me. You shoot me. You shoot me!" John ordered him, taking Alex and Sam both by surprise. "You shoot me in the heart, son!" Sam moved the gun to aim at John's heart, completely uncertain about what was happening. "Do it now!"

"Sam, no," Alex tried her best to sound calm, despite how freaked out she was becoming. There was no part of her life that was even remotely normal anymore. But she would not let her little brother carry killing their dad around for his entire life. "Just, let me…" she got half of her sentence out, her hand having been moving to John's temple with her first two fingers outstretched to touch it, when the demon suddenly smoke out of John's mouth in a plume of black smoke. The smoke disappeared through the floor as Alex fell back onto her behind, watching with wide eyes as John leveled an accusing glare at both her and Sam.

Within a few minutes Sam and piled his siblings and their dad into the Impala, none of them capable of walking on their own. They all needed medical attention pretty urgently, Dean especially. Alex wasn't faring much better than Dean at this point, the blood loss catching up to her. She was in the middle of the backseat, leaned against Dean, her head lazily fallen onto Dean's shoulder when she realized she couldn't hold it up anymore. Dean was barely even sitting up, leaning heavily against the door. Sam and John were in the front seat, Sam panicking as John gasped in pain.

"Look, just hold on tight guys," Sam's words were jumbled together as he revved the engine of the Impala, speeding down the highway. "The hospital is only ten minutes away."

"I'm surprised at you, Sammy," John frowned at him. "Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this thing? Killing this demon comes first. Before me. Before everything."

Sam looked in the rearview mirror at his siblings, both of them barely conscious at this point. He grimaced. "No, sir. Not before everything.. Look, we've still got the Colt. We still have one bullet left. We just have to start over, alright? I mean, we already found the demon…"

He never got to finish his sentence as, from a dark side road, an eighteen wheeler suddenly came speeding out and slammed into the side of the Impala. The Impala went careening wildly off the road, the occupants all being tossed around like ragdolls within it. Alex went flying out of the windshield, nothing restraining her to a seat; Dean slammed into the glass by his head, leaving a large bloody streak. John and Sam didn't fair any better.

The world had gone dark for each Winchester.

* * *

_Ruh-roh! I love that episode. :) Leave me a review if you want, please! _

_I had a guest reviewer last name who went by **Unknown** that I'd like to respond to: THANKS! I'm not amazing, surely, but the FF can take that compliment for me. And I try to update pretty regularly... I'm sort of... a shut-in. I don't go out often unless it's to make money. So I write a lot. But thank you, really! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. _


	20. Chapter 20: S02E01 Time of Dying part 1

The old highway was deserted except for one still running eighteen wheeler and an utterly destroyed Chevy Impala. The Impala was more like a heap of junk than a once beautiful car, the metal dented and warped. The three occupants inside of it weren't faring much better than the car itself. John and Dean Winchester were bleeding and unconscious; Sam was awake but trapped by the door. The fourth occupant of the car, Alex, had been thrown a short distance away from the vehicle and lay in an unceremonious jumble on the ground.

The driver of the semi that had hit them got out of his cab, making his way over to the side of the Impala and ripping the driver side door off of its hinges.

Sam was waiting for it, the Colt aimed up at it. "Get back. Or I swear to God I'll kill you."

"You won't," the demon-possessing-a-trucker smirked down at him. "You're saving that bullet for someone else."

Sam cocked the gun, glaring up at the demon. "You wanna bet?" he threatened, every bit willing to use the last bullet to protect his family.

The demon smiled at Sam before suddenly smoking out of its meatsuit, leaving a very disoriented man in its wake. Sam let out a sigh of relief and uncocked the gun, his head falling back of his seat.

"Oh, my God!" the trucker shouted when he saw the totaled Impala and the injured men inside. "Did I do this?!" He was panicking as he tried to remember.

Sam wasn't concerned with the human man freaking out by his door. He was more concerned with the condition of his family. He had been the only one before the wreck to even be in remotely good condition. And now… "Dad?" he asked quietly, panic edging in his voice as he saw that John was unconscious. He turned slightly to look in the backseat and his eyes grew wide, taking in the fact that Alex was nowhere in sight and that Dean was barely breathing. "Dean!" he yelled at his unconscious brother, hoping to rouse him. He then turned to look all around outside of the car, the dark hindering how far he could see. "Alex! Alex?!" he called out, hoping she would respond. He felt himself slowly dipping into unconsciousness, blinking several times to fight it as he strained to hear if Alex had called out in response to him… but it was too difficult to stay awake.

* * *

Alex's eyes fluttered open, wincing against the sunlight, as strong gusts of wind bombarded her and she heard a lot of urgent shouting. She took a hesitant breath as she slowly remembered everything that happened, and the pain that hit her when she breathed in was astonishing and caused her to scream out. Her scream brought several people carrying medical bags running towards her, each of them talking quickly among themselves. She groaned and tried to shove their hands away as they tried to stem the blood flow from her torso. "Sam!" she called out desperately, her voice breaking as she tried to look around the emergency personnel around her. "Dean!? Dad!"

"Alex!" she heard Sam's muffled cry respond from the direction of where the Impala was.

"Sam!" she yelled back, trying to move herself into a position where she could stand and get to her family. The medical personnel were having none of that though and held her down by her shoulders, trying to calm her down with their words. When that failed one of them pulled out a small syringe, pulling the topper off of it and plunging it into Alex's thigh. The last thing Alex saw before lapsing back into the darkness of her mind was a stretcher being rolled by with Sam on it, staring at her with a distraught expression.

* * *

An indefinite amount of time had passed between the last she had been conscious and now. Her relief at finally waking up was immense. Alex had spent the last period of unconsciousness… well, not unconscious. She was just trapped in her own mind, reliving the things that had happened to her over the past few months. The drugs they had put in her kept her body still and compliant, but did nothing to quell her racing thoughts. Was Sam okay? What about Dean and their dad? She had no idea. She didn't even care about herself anymore because she no longer felt like she was in pain.

But when her eyes flickered open she had to hold back an exasperated groan at where she was. She had been wondering why she hadn't heard any of the normal noises of a hospital, and now she knew. Apparently she died. Again. Or at least they thought she had. She honestly didn't know. But she was once again in a small, cold metal box, on a rolling slab with a white sheet over her nude body. Her muscles groaned and complained as she moved her arms to toss the sheet off of her, breathing in the frigid air. She was surprised as she moved to try opening this one's door like she had the one in Nashville. It swung open on its own and two pale hands grabbed the edge of the slab and tugged it roughly out of the cubby. She grimaced and rolled over, looking at the mortician above her and expecting him to react like the last one had.

The human man inside may have freaked out at a corpse suddenly being alive again, but when his eyes flashed a solid emerald and then back into dull brown she realized who it was. "If you want me to run around screaming "zombie" I will," the mortician's gruff southern accent was shockingly different from the more higher pitched masculine Australian one she was used to Beelzebub having.

"No thanks," she responded quickly, dragging herself off of the cold metal and standing up, her feet tensing as they hit the cold tile. She was surprised at how comfortable she felt around Beelzebub now. He had tortured her for years, sent her to Hell… but she was just fine standing beside of him. She wasn't sure she'd feel the same around Astaroth. "Clothes?" she asked, and when he pointed at a small pile of fabrics on a table across the room she nodded and moved over to put them on. She could feel him watching her, trying to weigh up her reaction to him. Hell, she was still trying to figure that out herself. She tugged on the ill-fitting blue scrubs, only pausing to entertain the fact that all of the wounds she knew she had were now gone, and turned back to him. "So, hey, I have a question."

"Shoot, cupcake," he crossed his vessel's arms, watching her with a raised eyebrow. It seemed she wasn't the only one acting differently now.

"Well, maybe a couple of questions. First of all, I just died, right? So why was I still conscious in my head? My body died but my brain didn't? It doesn't make sense. And secondly, since when are we so damned friendly?" Alex combed her fingers through her hair, once again marveling at the fact that it didn't even feel matted or dirty.

"Well, best I can tell," Beelzebub began, giving her a once-over as his lips pursed. "You're growing again. And that is a very good thing, albeit a bit unexpected. You're the first of your kind, though. Didn't really know what to expect with you."

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head at his words. She didn't feel like pondering over whatever the hell was happening to her right now. "Whatever," she dismissed, glancing down at her still bare feet. Eventually she would have to get to a store and invest in some shoes before she ended up with hobbit feet. "You didn't answer my other question."

He grinned at her, back to acting like his old self. "We share a bond, cuppycake," he informed her, his grin growing at her obvious disdain. "And the more you grow the closer we'll get. Just a part of life. When we met you were more like an unruly teen with angst issues. But you're much older now, cupcake. You can't hate your parents forever."

Alex rolled her eyes, swallowing back a lump that had been growing in her throat. He was talking like one day she would be like him, and that would never happen. She'd find a way to die that actually worked before she let that happen. "Still hate you," she told him simply, turning on her heels and heading for the door out of the morgue. "I'm going to check on my family. How about you go do whatever it is you do when you're not annoying me?"

A chuckle met her ears as she swiftly exited the room, followed by a thump as supposedly the body of the mortician hit the floor. She had said she was going to check on her family, but… well, she wasn't sure. Obviously they would have known she was dead by now; they'd have seen her body or something. How could she explain that? It'd be hard to pass it as a medical professional's fluke when they had actually seen her dead body. As she walked through the halls, her face downcast in hopes that no one would pay any attention to her (because there was a chance any of the nurses or doctors there had actually seen her before and it would be immensely awkward trying to explain it away as if she were a cousin of the deceased), she suddenly felt something very cold pass through her chest. She stopped and shivered, cautiously glancing around her. It wasn't unheard of for a hospital to be haunted, but she really didn't want to deal with a spirit right now. She had more important things to do.

When she saw no other signs of a haunting (no flickering lights or anything likewise spooky) she continued on her way, wondering how to find her brothers and dad. More than likely they were in the ICU, considering the extent of their wounds. Well, Dean would be at least. He had it as rough as she had before she died. With a passing glance at a plaque on the wall she found out the ICU was on the second floor, so she turned into the next stairwell and jogged up until she came to a door with a large red 2 beside of it. Her feet plodded quietly on the tile as she walked down the hall, her head still down and her hair covering some of her face to avoid being seen (if anyone had operated on her it would've been here). She was looking in every room she passed, hoping to see a familiar face. So far she hadn't had any luck until she saw her giant of a brother's silhouette through a door across the hall.

With a relieved sigh Alex quickly crossed the hall, pausing again as she considered what was going to happen or what she could even say to explain. She had nothing, though. She'd just have to play it by ear. Swallowing back her growing anxiety over the situation she stood in the doorway, gently tapping on the wood to interrupt the conversation Sam and their dad had been having.

When Sam turned to glare at the intrusion it was clear that it wasn't her he had been expecting to see. "Alex?" he asked softly, almost like just seeing her standing there had taken the breath out of him. He stiffly took two steps forward, his long legs covering the distance between them, and reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. When he felt her warm and solid body under his hand he used his grip to tug her to him, wrapping both of his arms around her in an embrace. "They said you died in the operating room."

She awkwardly patted him on the back, uncertain of the sudden show of emotion by him. Apparently he had been having a rough time with what was going on. His grip loosened enough after a few seconds and she maneuvered out of his arms, walking around him to stand more in the room and away from the windows where someone else could see her. She could feel their dad's eyes on her but couldn't bring herself to look at him. Regret of her decision to come here was bubbling in her chest as she realized that John had thought she was dead for several months already. She hesitated as she considered what to say, knowing both Sam and their dad were watching her expectantly. "Dying isn't exactly… uh…," she grimaced, realizing how difficult it was to tell them even this small detail about her life. "It's just a walk in the park now."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" John barked out at her, his dark eyes watching her with hidden anger and suspicion. "Damn it, Alex. Bobby Singer called to tell me you were dead; the boys told me you were dead. You were pronounced dead here."

"Uh, yeah… Uh," she stuttered, her eyebrows furrowing as she desperately tried to think of some way to tell them without actually telling them. "Seems to be happening to me a lot lately." She didn't know why, but she could've sworn she felt a third pair of eyes watching her. It made her glance around the room curiously.

"Sam, take that list I gave you and head off to meet Bobby," John ordered him, moving his eyes to push the enforce he had given him. Apparently he wanted to talk to Alex alone.

Sam hesitated, his mouth opening to fight against the order, but it snapped shut when he glanced at Alex. She was watching him and hoping he would do anything to distract their dad off of this subject. But with everything that had happened… Dean was unresponsive a few rooms down the hall. All the stuff with the yellow-eyed demon. Alex's mysterious and random appearances in and out of their lives… If anyone was going to get her to talk about it it would be their dad. So he nodded instead and silently moved out of the room, glancing again at Alex to see her crestfallen face when she realized he was just leaving her there to face their dad alone.

* * *

_Howdy guys! I hope you like this first installment of... SEASON 2! Huzzah! :D _

_You're all so lovely. I can't thank you guys enough for the kind reviews. cx _

_Keep leaving them for me to dote over! I love seeing new reviews. After I post a chapter I refresh the page every ten minutes checking for reviews. _

_Also... hey... what would you guys say if I let it slip that there are going to be a lot more canon episodes in this season that Alex will be in? ;) And maybe... just maybe... we'll get to a point to understand why Crowley has been sporadically in the installments. _

_And what are you thoughts about what's happening? "Still growing" is pretty weird to hear coming from Beelzebub, right? What's with the weird camaraderie? And do you feel like John could actually get his daughter to talk to him about what's going on? _


	21. Chapter 21: S02E01 Time of Dying part 2

After Sam had left Alex stood awkwardly in the room, shuffling on her feet as John Winchester stared her down. Even laid up in a hospital bed with his arm in a sling he was an overbearing father and she could feel her resolve crumbling under his stare. But oddly enough she didn't feel completely alone with him. It was like there was something she couldn't see in the corner of her eye. "Where's Dean?" she finally asked to break the tense silence. It had been bugging her since she came in here that Dean was nowhere in sight.

"Help me up," he ordered her instead of answering her, and she immediately went over to his side and held onto his arm as he swung his legs around and carefully placed his feet on the floor. She was concerned that he hadn't responded or even started yelling at her like she had thought he was going to.

When he tried standing and she saw how unstable he was on his feet she gently pushed him back down while shaking her head. "I'll find a wheelchair," she told him, moving to take a step back but stopping abruptly when he caught her left arm.

He twisted it around gently, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her wrist. Her breath caught in her throat as he silently took in everything he could about it. And then he let it go, silently motioning for her to give him her right wrist as well. She grimaced but did as he requested and the process repeated, just as silently as before. It was unnerving her, making her fidget, but that was maybe his point. "What are these?" he finally asked her, letting go of her wrist and looking up at her.

"Burdens," she replied honestly, holding her arms up to look at both of her wrists herself. "Black, ugly curses that I don't want to bother you with."

"Witch?" John asked her instead, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out her words. "Alex, look, I'm your dad. Like it or not. I know I've been focused on the Demon and I still am, but something is going on with you and you're gonna tell me what."

Her eyes snapped to his, both of their brown orbs locked in a contest of wills as they silently fought over it. "So, what?" she demanded, her arms dropping back down to her sides. "You suddenly care about my life? Dad, do you not realize that for my entire life I've been sidelined? I've always dealt with my own problems. Did you even know that I almost died when I was fifteen? A werewolf practically tore me in two."

John exhaled a tight-lipped sigh, his face scrunching up as his anger grew. She wasn't sure if that meant he did know or if he was only just learning about that. "Alex, I know you're mad at me for keeping you and your brothers separated. I know you're mad that I was hardly around. But that's in the past, Alex. We're all together now, and we're family. We help each other."

"That's a nice sentiment," she frowned at him, crossing her arms. "But I'm not dragging any of you into my problems. You've got enough on your plate. I can only assume that Dean isn't in here because he's in bad shape."

"Damn it, Alex," John rubbed over the rough stubble on his chin, closing his eyes in exasperation. "Yes. It's not looking good for Dean right now. But you were dead, Alex. People don't just die and come back without something weird going on. Did you make a deal? Is that it?"

She raised an eyebrow in response, thinking back to the deal she had made. It had nothing to do with her whole dying thing. "Once," she decided on telling him, holding back a grin when he gave her a sharp look. "That's not the problem, though. Crowley's not so bad once you get to know him; we called the deal off in order for a more preferable arrangement."

The way John was looking at her after she finished her sentence did make her grin, though. If she had heard herself saying it just a few months ago she'd have called herself insane. "Who the hell is Crowley? Is that a demon? You're on first name basis with a demon and you haven't exorcized it?"

She shrugged as she tried to contain her amusement, still smiling a little. "He's a demon, yeah. King of the Crossroads Demons apparently. A bit pretentious, but handsome in that bad boy kind of way. He's helped me out; I've got to repay the debt and help him out sometime. No deals. He's a useful contact. And what little soul I apparently do have is mine to keep."

"What does that mean?" John asked, a frown on his face and confusion in his voice. "Alex, what's going on? Demons? Going off on your own? I thought I raised you better."

"You hardly raised me at all," she reminded him, noting with pride that her statement apparently stung him. Good. She had hurt him. No wait. That's not good. Is it? She paused, blinking several times as she suddenly found herself unsure of the morality of this situation. She had never had a problem with that before. "I'm sorry. Dad, I…"

He shook his head, silencing her. "No. You're right. I wasn't there for you as much as I should have been. But I'm here now. So tell me what's going on, Alex."

The amount of effort he was putting into finding out what was happening with her, the care in his voice… it scared her. It was so unlike her father she almost thought he was possessed again. "Dad, is everything okay?"

John shrugged in response, rubbing some of his short brown hair away from his forehead. "My oldest son is laying in a bed dying. My daughter has apparently died three times now. Could be better. But I can only help one of those things right now, Alex. And that's you. So tell me what's going on."

She frowned, her dark eyes softening at his words. Was he acting this way because he was scared that Dean was going to die? That it had scared him to find out that she was dead? Maybe. She never thought much about it, but the prospect of her dying didn't scare her anymore. She almost expected it to happen at any time. But her family wasn't as used to it as she was. And they hadn't been to Hell or been trapped in a torture session in their own mind. She was certain that he couldn't help her. He wouldn't even believe her if she told him angels were real. And definitely not if she said that the Devil himself is the reason she even exists. Her dad was trying, though. He wanted to help her even without knowing what it was, and the fact that Dean, his poster boy, was dying made her pity their dad even more.

So with a sigh she gave in, at least a little, and sat beside of him. She laid her head on his shoulder as his arm moved to wrap around her back, holding her against his side. It was familiar; he smelled like he had when she was little and she got the same exact feeling of safety she had back then. It was almost like she was a little girl again, afraid of the imaginary creatures in the dark of the motel room, and her dad was there telling her to shoot first and ask questions later. She wasn't sure if he was like this with the boys. She didn't know if they ever got hugs from him; they were all male, after all, and didn't seem like the touchy-feely type. But she appreciated it. She always had. Even more now than ever. She felt safer in this moment than she had in the past few months. Even if she still felt like there was a third person in the room with them.

"Okay," she finally spoke quietly into his shoulder, closing her eyes as she decided on what to tell him. "Okay. So not long after I did that hunt with the boys, the lady in white in Jericho. On the bus ride back to Tennessee, my car was at Bobby's, I fell asleep. When I woke there was a strange man beside of me, watching me. I was going for my gun, 'cause he was freaking me out, and then I just couldn't move anymore. Turns out it was this um…," she paused, briefly considering saying warped son of a bitch angel who was also her mother, "this demon. Had solid green eyes. He was the first one to mark me. The one on my left wrist." She didn't open her eyes but she knew he was looking at her wrists which were laid in her lap. "It was… excruciating, to say the least. Felt like I was on fire. Then he just disappeared, and suddenly I could see the bus and all of the other people riding in it had been massacred. So I walked the rest of the way into Nashville, back to my place. But everything was on fire." She paused again, taking a deep breath as she contemplated her story so far. "And then I saw this… this other demon. I had seen him before, in Jericho. I meant to tell Dean but we were caught up in the hunt.

"I knew it was the same one because of its blue eyes. And it was smiling. I knew it had to be behind the fires. So… I chased it into an alley. And then it marked my other wrist. The… uh, the combined trauma caused by the marks sort of… I died for the first time in that alley." She sighed. It actually felt okay telling him this. It's not like she was actually telling him anything too important. "And it's been a wild ride since then. Died in Sioux City. Died here…"

John had been silent as she spoke, listening to her words carefully. She had been fairly detailed up until the end. "That's it, then? They did that to your wrists and you just don't die anymore?" Alex had been hoping he wouldn't have caught her discrepancy between what was important and not. "What happened in between the times you… died?"

"Nothing important," she covered up, hoping she wouldn't be caught in her lie. "I still don't even really know what the marks are for." That was at least a half-truth. She sat back up and away from John, watching him as he digested what she had told him. It hadn't actually been everything… but she hoped it was enough for him to stop asking.

Apparently it was enough for him because he had stopped talking, his eyes downcast as he thought over what she said. He looked like he was trying to figure out some sort of game plan to deal with it when Alex sat up and away from his shoulder. "I'm gonna have someone bring you a wheelchair," she told him with a light smile, standing up and moving a little towards the door. "And don't worry; I'm not going anywhere. I just need to go ask some questions around the morgue. On my way up here I had a pretty intense cold chill. Might be a haunting."

John nodded dismissively at her statement, watching her with an unreadable expression. "Yeah. Keep on the down-low, kiddo. People around here might realize you're a corpse walking."

"This isn't my first dance," she reminded him, her smile growing wider when he chuckled at her joke. It didn't take long once she left his room to find a random person to have a nurse take her dad a wheelchair (obviously she couldn't, considering she was in scrubs and not a part of the staff).

She paused beside of a window she was walking by on her way to the stairwell she had used previously, frowning when she recognized who was in the bed in the room. It was Dean. And he looked really rough. On life support rough. It was too much for her to just stand there and stare at her dying brother so with a heavy sigh she moved on, trying her best to forget what she had seen. No wonder Sam had been so torn up. He was losing his brother. If she knew anything about her two brothers it was that they were close. Really close. Take a bullet for each other close.

When another cold chill ran through her she stopped walking, tensely looking around her. There was definitely something going on here. There was no way she would just randomly feel that twice in the same building…

"Hey! I need some help in here!" a voice called out from around the corner down the hall, making Alex's breath catch in her throat. That sounded like… she glanced back at the room she had been looking to, her eyes growing wide as confusion washed over her.

"Dean!" she called out in response, rushing forward and sliding around the corner with her bare feet. The sight she was met with wasn't the one she had been expecting at all. There was a woman dying in the floor, choking on something. But her brother was nowhere to be seen. Alex gritted her teeth together, rushing forward and dropping onto her knees by the woman. She wasn't sure what she could do except attempt a Heimlich maneuver to try and force the offending piece of food out of the woman's esophagus but it was no use. It wouldn't budge. So she moved on to her next mode of action, calling out for more help. She wasn't a medical professional, but she was in a hospital. Someone had to be around to help, and soon enough she heard the padding of feet run over as she was tugged away from the nurse.

She watched on helplessly, taking several steps back. It was too late for the woman, she knew. That young nurse had probably died in her arms as Alex tried to stop her choking. Which meant she would be questioned about what had happened and she couldn't have that, so she quickly turned and scurried away, disappearing into a stairwell. She sighed and leaned her forehead against the cool cement in the dimly lit staircase, wondering what had just happened. She had heard Dean… hadn't she? "Maybe the torture really did make me crazy," she laughed darkly to herself, closing her eyes.

"What the hell do you mean "torture"?" a masculine voice snapped behind her in a growl, causing her to whip around and stare at the man behind her in awe.

"Dean?" she asked quietly, staring in shock at him standing there. He looked absolutely fine, no cuts or bruises… and he was in the same clothes he had on in his hospital bed, the white t-shirt and light blue scrub bottoms.

"You can see me?" he seemed equally as shocked as she was, his green eyes narrowed under his scrunched eyebrows as he stared at her.

Instead of replying she reached forward, her hand outstretched to grab his bicep… but it just fell through him and made her shiver violently at the sudden coldness that enveloped her. "Jesus, Dean, you're a friggin' spirit." She spoke barely above a whisper, her wide brown eyes still staring at him incredulously. Dean was returning her stare in spades, both of them unsure of how to proceed.

"This is almost too cute to break up." A snide, obnoxious voice piped up from the stairs beside of them. The siblings' attention turned to it immediately, Dean taking a protective stance in front of Alex regardless of his spirit state, but it was Alex who recognized the tall blonde man standing above them. There was only one person she knew that that looked like him, even though his skin was peeling in several places now and angry red sores had sprouted sporadically around his body.

"Astaroth." She spoke up, her voice quieter and less sure than she had wanted to sound. Her mouth had gone dry when she realized it was him. His departing words from the last time she saw him echoed in her mind as they locked eyes: _"You'll regret this…"_

* * *

_Hey guys! I hope you liked this. ;) So maybe Dean was hanging around when she was talking to John about what happened... I wonder what he has to say about these things he's only just now learning because he's on the brink of death? _

_And whoa! Where did Astaroth come from? That annoying git has been M.I.A. for a while now. I wonder why he's here now... _

_So as always, leave me a lovely review and I'll be sure to respond to it! If you have questions feel free to ask them. The same goes for concerns, comments, ideas, requests... anything you want. Really! :) _


	22. Chapter 22: S02E01 Time of Dying part 3

_New laptop! Yay! Please excuse any mistakes in this chapter. I'm getting used to this keyboard... it's... French and English. So a little different. Enjoy the installment!_

* * *

"Who the fuck is Astaroth?" Dean growled out, his eyes hard and a frown on his lips as he saw how negatively Alex had responded.

"That'd be me, Dean," Astaroth rolled his eyes, shaking his head at Dean's antics. "Now look, this is really cute. It is. But the adults need to talk alone now." With a wave of his hand, before Alex could reach out and stop him, Dean was gone. Astaroth had made his spirit disappear from the room.

"Where is he? What did you do to him?" she spat vehemently at him, taking a threatening step towards him.

Astaroth seemed unfazed as she approached, picking at one of the sores on his hand. "We need to talk, and he was going to be an incessant pain in the ass. I just did him a favor and expedited the whole spirit thing."

"No," Alex's eyes narrowed at him dangerously, her hands balling into fists. "Bring him back. Right now. There's still time to find a way to save him."

"Honey, he's dead. Don't obsess over it," he frowned down at her, his lips chapped to the point of bleeding. "Now listen. I'm only going to offer this to you one time. Join me. We'll kill that asshole Beelzebub, and then we'll move on to our rightful places by Lucifer's side. Four's a crowd, don't you think?"

"How about no, you stupid son of a bitch," she rebutted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm gonna kill all three of you assholes. The only side I'm on is my own."

"Then I should kill you now and save myself the hassle," his face turned into an ugly scowl as he took a couple of steps down towards her. She responded by taking two steps backwards, glancing around her warily for any weapon she could use.

But she didn't get to look around for very long until a sharp cold chill ran through her, causing her to shiver violently and look back at Astaroth. Instead of Astaroth however she was faced with a completely foreign being; something she had never seen before. Astaroth was nowhere in sight.

"What the hell are you?" Alex demanded to know, staring in shock at the sickly green colored spirit-like creature in front of her. Its form was similar to a woman, a very old and dead looking woman, but something about felt very different from a spirit. "What did you do to make Astaroth just leave like that?"

The ghastly figure didn't answer her; instead it turned its head, the pale hair flowing behind it, and suddenly bolted through the wall and out of sight. Alex blinked several times as she took in what just happened before realizing that the thing she had just seen was probably what was haunting the hospital and took off after it, out of the door and down the hallway where she still saw it flying away. When it turned a corner Alex continued after it, but instead of running into it she came face to face with an even bigger surprise: Dean.

"Dean?" she asked tentatively, taking a step back and glancing around her to see if anyone was nearby. "You're still a spirit?"

"Yeah, been looking everywhere for you," he gruffly told her, crossing his arms over his chest as his serious green eyes swept over her for any sign of injury. "What the hell was that? And don't give me any of that stupid bullshit you've been spilling. I was in the room with you and dad. I heard all of that. So cut the crap and tell me what the deal is. The real deal. I know you didn't tell him everything."

Alex frowned at him, breathing in deeply as he watched her with a scrutinizing glare. "Dean," she began, glancing around, "I'm standing here talking to a spirit. That no one else can see. They'll throw me in the psych ward if they catch me doing this."

"There's an empty room right here," he pointed to their left, where the lights were out in a room with a shut door. Even as a spirit he still had the same smug vibes rolling off of him as she let out an exasperated sigh.

"Shouldn't we, I dunno, go check on dad or something?" she asked instead, hoping to divert his attention away from what he was trying to do.

"No, Alex," he snapped at her, shaking his head in frustration. "I'm done with whatever stupid game you think this is. I'm dying. The least you could do is tell me what's going on with you."

They locked eyes after he spoke, Alex's brown ones slightly saddened and his green stubborn as they silently battled it out. If there was ever a sign they were related it was how stubborn they both were. But after several seconds Alex caved under the pressure. Dean was dying. She might never have another chance to talk to him about this… so she groaned, pretending to still be annoyed by it, and stomped into the room he had motioned to. She didn't bother flicking the lights on as she moved over to sit on the edge of an unoccupied bed, her lips pursed as she watched him.

"So what do you want to know?" she asked, crossing her legs.

"When you were talking to dad you were seriously vague," he began, frowning at her, "So you had better not skip any details here, princess. Just tell it from the top."

"How about I just get straight to the point?" she asked him instead, her eyes closing as she sighed. "The two demons, Beelzebub and Astaroth? They're actually angels. They from Heaven with Lucifer, but apparently Lucifer was locked away in a cage or something somewhere. They think he's gonna get free soon, bring on the apocalypse or something. I come into this because…" she hesitated, opening her eyes to see how Dean was reacting. So far he was just stoic faced. "Okay. Well, dad wouldn't have cheated on your mom with mine under normal circumstances. But Beelzebub, one of the two angel dicks, he was possessing my mom at the time. I think he manipulated dad into impregnating his vessel specifically so I could be raised to be a hunter. He and your yellow-eyed demon know each other, so… I think all of us were pretty well planned. But um… well, because Beelzebub was my… mother," she hesitated again, those words feeling fifty shades of wrong on her tongue, "I'm not exactly… completely human. I would be, I mean, but whatever those two did to me… it brings that side of me out. I think that's why I'm not dying."

"Jesus, Alex," Dean finally spoke, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head.

She snickered wryly at that. When he gave her an odd look she just shrugged. "Just funny that you used Jesus there. That's sort of what I am. Well, not the messiah. But Jesus was like me. Apparently I'm… more suited for whatever the hell this is."

"And you're sure? About all of this?" he asked her seriously, his tone of voice dark and grumbly. She had figured he'd think she was crazy if she told him. "I didn't even know angels were like… an actual thing."

"Neither did I until they sent me to Hell," she offered as an off-handed consolement, "But when I ended up in Heaven in sort of validated their claim."

"Hell? Heaven?" Dean looked like he really needed to sit down, but he couldn't even manifest himself enough to lean against the bed without falling through it. "So this is what you've been dealing with? God, Alex. Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"Because there's nothing any of your or myself can do about it," she told him gently, noting with a frown that he seemed unwilling to accept that.

"No. We'll find something, Alex. You just gotta stick with us. Once dad and Sam find a way to get me better we'll all work on finding a way to help you." Dean was adamant about his point, staring down at her with a mixture of compassion and seriousness.

She was touched by his sentiment towards her. It was relieving to know that, with all of it in the open, Dean still didn't care. Family really did mean something to her brothers and dad. And it was starting to mean something to her, too. She was smiling softly at him, about to speak up, when she noticed their giant of a brother stalking past the room they were in. "Hey, Sam's back," she informed Dean, standing and moving for the door. "We should probably go see if he found anything to help you."

Dean nodded his agreement, walking through her and the door to get out of the room. She grimaced and shivered, opening the door to see his grinning face on the other side. "You did that on purpose," she accused him, mockingly glaring at him when he grinned more and shrugged.

"Hey, as far as I'm concerned, dying or not, somebody's gotta finish hazing you in," his happy-go-lucky attitude was extremely different from how he had been in the room before, but she figured it had something to do with his dislike of "chick flick moments" and brushed it off.

Soon both Alex and Dean had made it to their dad's room, not long after Sam got there. Both Sam and John were silent, staring at each other. Alex knew that both of them had acknowledged her when she came in, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything as tension began to grow in the room.

"You're quiet," John finally spoke, his sentence aimed at Sam.

Sam turned to him, suddenly fuming as he threw the duffel bag he was carrying onto their dad's bed. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?" he demanded viciously, glaring at John.

"What are you talking about?" John asked calmly, nonchalantly. Like a person who knows exactly what the other is talking about.

"The stuff from Bobby," Sam began again, frowning at Jon with his hands on his hips. "You don't use it so ward off a demon, you use it to summon one. You're planning on bringing the demon here, aren't you? Having some stupid macho showdown?!"

"I have a plan, Sam," John replied, still calm as he stared up at his son. He was trying not to get into a fight. Alex just tried her best to sink into the wall behind her, out of the entire argument.

"That's exactly my point!" Sam finally shouted at him, fed up with how John had been acting. "Dean is dying, and you have a plan! You know what, you care more about that demon than you do saving your own son!"

Alex winced at Sam's words as John took a deep breath. It was pretty harsh, even if she did agree with Sam on everything he had said.

Dean apparently wasn't happy with what was going on because he stepped forward, trying to get between them. "No, no, no, guys. Don't do this!"

"Do not tell me how I feel!" John shouted back at Sam, finally angry and fed up with what Sam was saying. "I am doing this for Dean. For Alex."

Alex's eyebrows furrowed as she watched on, her hands moving up in front of her as she shook her head. "Please don't drag me into this," she told them when Sam looked her way.

"How?" Sam asked John, turning his attention back to him. "How is this going to help them? You're not thinking about anybody but yourself, it's the same selfish obsession!" Sam's words were harsh and Alex, even though she wasn't the one on the receiving end of them, knew that her dad was taking it hardly. Both of them were hurting because of Dean. They were just reacting differently.

"Come on guys, don't do this," Dean spoke up again, trying desperately to stop them from fighting.

"You know, it's funny, I thought it was your obsession too! This demon killed your

mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be part of this hunt. Now if you'd

killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened." John's words probably stung Sam like Sam's had done to him. They weren't going easy on each other, and with the way Dean was reacting Alex couldn't help but to wonder if this was a normal thing for them to do.

"It was possessing you, Dad, it would have killed you too," Sam reminded him futilely, frowning deeply.

"Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now," John snapped back, the venom in his words making Alex close her eyes and grimace. This was an ugly fight.

"Shut up, both of you!" Dean yelled at them, trying his best to stop their fight before it got even worse.

But it seemed like Sam was done with it, taking a step away from John. "Go to hell," he spat out darkly, glaring at John.

"I should have never taken you in the first place," John continued, despite of Sam backing out, "I knew it was a mistake. I knew I was wrong-"

"I said SHUT UP!" Dean yelled out in anger, swiping his hand at a glass of water. They were all surprised when it flew off of the table and into the floor, shattering. Sam and John shared a confused look, silenced by the sudden glass breaking.

Alex was staring in stunned silence at Dean, who was also staring at her. "Dude. I full-on Swyaze'd that mother," he told her with a growing grin, making her bite her lip to keep from laughing at him. His grin didn't last long as he suddenly crumpled in pain, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. Alex had to fight the urge to go to him, knowing it would seem crazy to her other brother and father, but noticed at the same time as everyone else when a large group opf nurses and doctors went running by the room.

John watched the commotion as it ran by before glancing at Sam and Alex, "Something's going on out there." He nodded his head towards the door silently as Sam and Alex watched him, both of them heading outside at the unspoken order to go find out what was happening.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed! And might I just say... SHE FINALLY TOLD DEAN! Huzzah! Maybe she'll tell Sam next so he isn't left out of the loop... or maybe she won't. Who knows. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed what you read, and as always leave a review if you're so inclined. During my forced hiatus while I awaited my new laptop I did a bit of plotting, and it looks like season two is gonna have a whole lot of Winchester action. x3 I know some of you will be happy about that._


	23. Chapter 23: S02E01 Time of Dying part 4

The trail of frenzied nurses and doctors led them straight to the room in which Dean was laid up in. Sam and Alex stopped short in the doorway, staring on in shock at what was happening in the room. Dean was dying; monitors were beeping frantically and the medical professionals were working to resuscitate him. It was a nightmare. Things were made worse for Alex when she couldn't find Dean anymore. She had seen him up until she ran out of the room with Sam… and poor Sam. He wasn't taking the sight very well at all. He was fidgeting as he leaned heavily on the doorway, silently crying. It broke Alex's heart to see him that way. She grabbed onto his arm with both of her hands, biting her lip to hold back her own tears, hoping that letting him know she was there for him was enough.

Several agonizing seconds went by with no change in Dean, no matter how hard the nurses and doctors worked. Alex had began to fear the worst until she heard a familiar gruff voice bark out from within the room: "I said get back!". But she still couldn't see him.

Then suddenly the beeping machines started to even out again and the nurses and doctors were relieved as one of them said that he was back into sinus rhythm. Sam exhaled a sigh in relief and stepped further back into the hallway. Alex was still attached to his arm, but was looking around the hallway as covertly as possible to see if she could find Dean anywhere. She still couldn't see him around and it was really bothering her. If her being able to see him in this spirit state had anything to do with what she was and the powers that came along with it then she would really appreciate it if they would be consistent. Being able to communicate to Dean was a good thing. Sam was still recovering from seeing Dean's body nearly die, but was also glancing around beside of him with a confused expression on his face, like he was searching for something he couldn't quite see.

"You okay, Sam?" she asked him, releasing his arm and taking a step back to look up at him. If he could've been just a little shorter she wouldn't have to feel like her neck was breaking every time she looked at him.

"I… I dunno," he responded, looking down at her, his hazel eyes portraying his confusion. He hesitated for a moment, like he wasn't sure if he should tell her what he was thinking, but did anyway. "It's like I felt something. I dunno, though."

"Felt something like that?" Alex asked, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to run through the possibilities of what it could be.

"Sort of like… like Dean. Like he was standing just out of eyeshot or something," he continued, glancing around them again. "I dunno if it's my psychic thing or what, but it felt like him."

"What psychic thing?" was her next question. She had been told that they had a lot going on, and had figured as much, but psychic abilities weren't at the top of her list of explanations.

Sam shrugged a little, fidgeting on his feet. "I dunno. Nevermind. Let's go ask dad about it."

She frowned but didn't disagree with him, barely having the chance to as he walked past her and back to their dad's room. She didn't like not being told what was going on, but… well, she was pretty guilty of keeping things to herself.

When they got in their dad's room again and explained what had happened with Dean, Sam brought up the same thing he had told to Alex in the hall. And John had reacted the same way she had. "What do you mean, you felt something?" he asked Sam, his dark brown eyes narrowed on his son.

"I mean it felt like, like Dean. Like he was there, just out of eyeshot or something. I don't know if it's my psychic thing or what, it… But do you think it's even possible?" Sam asked, hope shining in his eyes as he watched John closely for his reaction. "I mean, do you think his spirit could be around?"  
Alex knew the answer was definitely a yes, but she didn't feel right saying it out loud. If their dad was reacting like that to Sam even mentioning his psychic thing, or whatever, then she doubted he'd like to hear that Alex had actually seen Dean. "Anything's possible," John finally told Sam, neither confirming nor denying what he had said.

"Well, there's one way to find out." Sam took a step towards the door, apparently intending to leave.

"Where are you going?" John asked him.

"I gotta pick something up, I'll be back," Sam said flippantly, turning back around to leave.

"Wait, Sam," John spoke up again, making Sam stop and turn to face him another time. "I promise I won't hunt this demon. Not 'til we know Dean is okay."

Sam nodded to that, turning and leaving again. Alex wanted to go with him, but the way their dad had said that… well, it made her want to stay here even more. So she didn't move to follow Sam, instead opting to sit in a hard pink chair nearer the corner of the room. She could feel John's eyes on her, as if he was waiting for her to say something, but since she had no idea what it would be she just remained silent.

"Why don't you go get something to eat?" John recommended to her, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. "I've got a credit card in my coat over there."

She frowned at him, her lips quirking to the side as she shook her head. "No thanks. I'm not hungry." That was the truth, anyway. She wasn't sure when the last time she had been actually hungry was.

"You could go and get some shoes, at least," he pointed out, trying to find another way to get her to leave. If it hadn't been for his odd behavior earlier she would've dismissed it, but she was very suspicious.

"Why are you trying to get me out of here?" Alex finally asked, crossing her arms as she stared him down. "I'm not stupid, you know. I can get hints."

"Alex," John began gruffly, putting on his authoritative fatherly tone, "I have things I need to do. You don't need to be around for me to get them done."

"Things like what? Summoning that demon to your freakin' hospital room?" she fired back at him, her left foot tapping impatiently on the cold white tiles. "If you insist on summoning a demon then you had better know you're not doing it alone. Because what you said to Sam-that you wouldn't hunt the demon until Dean was okay… sounded pretty fishy to me."

"I was going to the basement, actually," John responded, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed and tugging the IV out of his arm. "And if you're not leaving then you can grab the bag and come on." He stood up, tugging off the hospital gown to reveal that he was fully dressed underneath it. She was slightly flabbergasted by that, but when he moved towards the door she hopped up and grabbed the bag, following after him.

"So it's just gonna be that easy?" she asked him curiously, very confused by the turn of events. She had never known John Winchester to just let someone accompany him to something that he knew was going to be dangerous.

"There's no time to argue with you," he said offhandedly, shrugging as they made their way into a stairwell. "And if your demons want you alive than ours probably won't bother you."

"So… what? Am I a human shield?" Alex asked indignantly, her lips pursing into a frown.

"No. Of course not," John corrected quickly, shaking his head. "No matter what happens down there you are not to get involved. Understand?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. It depends on what you had in mind. So… what are you doing, dad? You told Sam you weren't hunting, but…"  
"Dean's dying, Alex," John spoke remorsefully, quietly. "I'm going to save my son."

"What are you going to do, dad," she spoke more forcefully, swallowing down the sickness that threatened to rise with her apprehension as she thought about what he had said.

"I'm going to make a deal, Alex," John said, his tone final. "For Dean _and_ you."

* * *

_Hey guys! I'm SO SORRY about the delay here. I'm working over a writers block for this story while working on a new one. I hope you aren't too mad at me. :(_

As for the other story I'm working on? It's a Sherlock/Supernatural crossover. I've already posted the first chapter, give it a look if you want! :D "The Hunter and the Consulting Detective". Description (or poor excuse for one): "Crossover! Winchesters mentioned, not active characters. OC Hunter. My name's Brynne Colt. I was hunting a couple of vamps, and when I got close to them they hopped the freakin' country and started over again in London. Of course, bodies drained of blood attracted Sherlock Holmes... but there's no way I'm letting him go after vamps. He's not a hunter."

_ANYWAY! Leave me a review telling me how mad you are that I've gone MIA for two weeks. :( I feel terrible about it. _


	24. Chapter 24: Asylums, Memories, and Salt

The next few hours were somewhat of a blur for Alex. She had argued with her dad the entire way down to the boiler room of the hospital, continued arguing while they were drawing everything and setting up, and still kept at it when they were ready. He had been mostly silent throughout her entire dialogue, choosing to ignore what she was saying instead of trying to defend himself. Apparently he was aware of how terrible of a decision it was, but his mind had been made. He was going to save his children, no matter the cost to himself.

Of course, neither of them expected his plan to only save Dean and make Alex's situation even worse.

But then again… none of that even matters anymore.

* * *

Alexandria Gabriella. That's who she was. Or, at least, that's who she thinks she was. Maybe. It hurt her head to try and think about the blank spot in her memory. For all she knew those were just two names she heard once and liked. They felt right, but at the same time wrong… it didn't make sense. And sometimes Winchester would come to mind, but she always dismissed it because there were guns named that. She knew a lot about guns, actually. It confused her. And knives. And how to make bullets. And ways to kill people. It scared her how much she knew about things like that. And that only scratched the surface; when she dreamed it was of nightmarish creatures, things that would haunt a child's dreams for weeks…

"Jane? You still with us over there?"

The sudden questions directed at her caused her head to snap back to turn her attention to the group she was sitting with. She belatedly realized she had been staring out of the window for the last ten minutes, considering what all she knew about herself as she stared down through the bars at the gated courtyard. Compared to the rest of her therapy group she was easily the most sane looking. She never acted out; she never spoke out of line… but she was among them, and easily one of the more difficult cases. She had been found by a hiking family in the middle of a forest, dazed and confused. The authorities had been contacted, but when it was determined that she knew nothing about herself or how she got there she was called a Jane Doe and transferred to this place. A mental hospital. The thought of it was enough to make her cringe.

"Yeah, I'm here. Sorry," she offered lamely as an excuse for her lack of attention, offering a half-assed smile at the doctor who had questioned her.

Dr. Lewis smiled at her in return, accepting the apology and moving on in the conversation. He had been nothing but nice to her since she was assigned to him. He was in his late 50s and apparently had a daughter a little older than her, which made him sympathize even more with Jane's case.

It wasn't much longer until he called the session to a close. It wasn't odd for Jane to not add anything meaningful during these sessions; she just wasn't interested in sharing her pathetically limited story with a group of strangers. Then again, it was better to be stuck in here than back out in the recreation room. There was nothing for her to do out there but draw in a notebook that Dr. Lewis had given her. It was his hope that it would help her to recollect something if she put into words or pictures the things she dreamed about. He had something else about dreams and amnesia, but she had started to tone him out when he began spewing out more of his educated stuff. It bored her.

After Dr. Lewis reminded her about their solo session the following morning, which she dreaded (they never got anywhere), she made her way to the rec room. It was relatively empty, since it was around the time of day where most of the patients had group or some other therapy to go to, so she was able to snag a table closer to one of the iron barred windows. The room itself was plain; it had white walls and tiled floors, flickering fluorescent lights, several plastic tables and chairs, and a couple of fake plants. She had been told her ward was one of the better ones to be in; the patients here were the ones who never showed that they were prone violent tendencies. So it was always calm around the rec room. And boring.

She let out a long, exasperated sigh as she opened her notebook, flipping past the pages that had drawings of her nightmares, pausing slightly over the sketches of familiar faces and places (more specifically two of those: one of a junkyard and one of a younger man resting in a chair, staring with determination at his hand as it was locked in competition with a female one), and finally stopping a new clean page. Her pencil hovered over the page as she thought about the dream she had last night. It wasn't as scary as some had been, but it was odd… there was a man, with yellow eyes, and he was speaking to her. But she couldn't hear what he was saying…

"Room 304 is freezing again."

Jane paused, her pencil barely making contact with the surface of the paper as she suddenly heard a couple of the orderlies talking not far behind her.

"Yeah, they've been having problems all week with the lights down that entire hall."

She gently sat the pencil down, leaning back in her chair in order to hear them talking better. Something about what they were saying meant something to her. She just wasn't sure of what.

"You know Jimmy, the guy in 306? He's been freaking out for days, says he saw a ghost."

She grimaced as she recalled a nightmare she had a few days ago. It was about an entire family of ghosts haunting a house.

"Yeah, well, he's been in here longer than most people. He's barely even there anymore."

The two orderlies began walking away, taking their conversation with them. That left Jane alone, picking at the hem of her plain white shirt, staring blankly down at her feet, which had pink slippers with sticky rubber grips on the bottom so she wouldn't fall. She had no idea why any of what they said had mattered to her. Lights flickering, cold spots, a guy who said he saw a ghost… it was all just a bunch of gibberish or coincidence or something. Ghosts aren't real. None of what she dreamed about was real. They were just dreams. Not reality. Yet… before she realized she was doing it, she had left her notebook behind and was making her way towards the 300s hall, pausing next to one of the tables as she caught a glimpse of something that was oddly important to her.

A salt shaker. She reached over and plucked it off the table, feeling strangely satisfied that it was so full, before pocketing it and continuing on her way. All of this felt oddly familiar, and yet so strange… after all, what kind of crazy person would go investigating something weird and actually hope to find a ghost? Maybe she belonged in this hospital after all. But it just felt right. Like something she had been doing her entire life. So she held tight to that feeling, making her way down the hall until she was between rooms 304 and 306, which were across the hall from each other.

It was true, it felt a little chillier around this area of the hallway. Goosebumps rolled across her skin as she shivered, first glancing in the small window at the top of the door for room 304, and then at the window for door 306. It was unlikely that the guy they had mentioned, Jimmy, was even in his room right now, but she still moved over to it and knocked three times.

"Uh, Jimmy?" she called through the door, pressing her ear up against it to try and see if she could hear anyone moving around. "We don't know each other, I've only just heard about you. My name's Jane. I have a few questions if you have some time to spare?"

"Go away," a gruff, older voice called back, causing Jane to frown. It was short and simple, and it held a clear message.

She didn't really need to talk to him anyway, so she shrugged it off and turned back to the room opposite of his, 304. Something about it felt wrong. Not bad wrong, just… wrong. Like she shouldn't be doing this by herself; she felt like there was a time when she would do something like this with other people. That guy in her drawing. His face stuck out when she thought about it… if only she could remember his name.

Oh well. She didn't have time to think on it now as she allowed herself to move closer to the door, knocking on it a couple of times with her left fist while her right hand closed around the salt shaker in her pocket. There was no response, but she didn't really expect there to be one. But she was very surprised when the door handle suddenly twisted on its own, the door cracking open very slightly. It didn't scare her, though… just startled her. Maybe there really was something wrong with her. She was relatively certain any of the people she had been meeting since she first arrived at this hospital two weeks ago would have turned and ran away.

But not her. She just locked her jaw in determination and stepped forward, placing a palm on the door and shoved it open completely, staying hesitantly in the hall as she peered in. It looked like any other room in the place; it had minimal furniture, all white based, and a single barred window high on the wall. Other than that, the room was empty… the lights were off, but there was enough sunlight coming in the room from the setting sun to illuminate it, and she couldn't see a single person who could've opened the door. Now she was starting to get a little freaked out. Maybe ghosts were real. And she was in no way prepared to fight a ghost… if it was even possible to do that.

Apparently she was taking too long in the hallway trying to figure out what to do, because without any warning a figure starting to flicker in front of her, slowly becoming a more solid image of a man. He appeared to be in his mid-40s and was wearing an outfit similar to hers, all white that indicated a patient, but his was dirty and torn, large black smears running across it. She locked eyes with him after her initial looking him over, swallowing violently as he slowly grinned at her and held a hand out towards her. Sure, he was charming with his chiseled face and black hair, but… he was a ghost. And he definitely didn't look like he had good intentions. She definitely regretted ever making the decision to come and investigate what she had heard.

"Jane? What are you doing down here?" A female nurse called from down the hall, breaking her attention away from the ghost to look back down at the intruding woman.

"I…" Jane paused, turning her head to look back into the room and frowned when she saw that it was once again empty. How could she explain that she had seen a ghost without sounding crazy? "I don't know. I was just walking."

"Well, let's get you back to your room," the woman smiled at her patronizingly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her away from room 304. "It's almost time for lights out."

Jane nodded mutely, glancing behind them at room 304. It was completely empty now… which unnerved her. But there was also a face in the window of room 306 now, watching as she was led away by the nurse. She and the man locked eyes, and she was surprised when he gave her a small nod. Apparently he had been watching what she was doing when her back was turned to his room. And he approved. She would have to make it a point to seek him out again tomorrow to ask him more about the room across from his. She had no idea why she cared so much, but… well, if there was a ghost hanging around she didn't think it would be for good reasons.

The nurse was true to her word and left her in her room, leaving Jane alone with her thoughts. And currently those thoughts were centered on that ghost and how she could kill it… if that was possible. She hated this. She hated feeling like there was something so important about her missing; such a huge chunk of her life… she hated that she felt like something serious had happened and she had no way of knowing what it was to help. She fingered the salt shaker in her pocket idly, before her brows furrowed and she tugged it out, glancing at the window and door in her room. It was a split second decision on her part, but she used the contents of it to make a line across both entries, and it made her feel infinitely safer than she had just moments before.

But she still didn't sleep much, stuck in her attempts to recall her life before her amnesia. She had two tattoos on her wrists, and she knew they were both important and bad, but she didn't know why. And that was frustrating her beyond belief.

* * *

"Dean!" Sam called out from the kitchen of Bobby Singer's house, hunched over his laptop as he gave a scrutinizing look over the newspaper article he had just found. It had been a tough couple of weeks for the brothers. Three weeks ago they had been involved in a terrible car wreck that had left Dean almost dead; a few days later their dad had died inexplicably after Dean had awoken from his coma, fully healed. And their sister was nowhere to be found. They had looked everywhere before finally leaving. It wasn't unlike her to just disappear, so they had let it go… but that was before Sam had seen this article.

It took a solid five minutes for Dean to finally amble into the room. He was still upset over the death of their father. He had idolized the man, loved him unconditionally… "What?" he barked at Sam, maybe a little rougher than he meant it to be. He had been spending a lot of time outside working on his Baby, trying to get her back into driving shape and avoiding having to talk to Sam or Bobby about what had happened to John Winchester. And he was honestly pissed off at Alex. Kind of shitty of her to disappear right when their dad was killed. In fact, he had been entertaining the thought that she had been in on it recently. For all they knew she could've been.

"Look at this," Sam swiveled the computer screen around to face Dean, ignoring the bite in his words. "That's Alex."

"Jane Doe," Dean mumbled, leaning down over the table and placing his hands on either side of the laptop. "'Woman found on hiking trail, lost and confused. Taken into police custody and later released to Takoma Mental Hospital.'," he paused, glancing at Sam who nodded to encourage him further, "Says here she's got some serious amnesia, doesn't remember who she is or where she's from, so she's stuck in that asylum until someone comes forward with proof of who she is or she gets better. What the hell?"

Dean's question was open-ended, not really meant to be answered, but Sam responded anyway. "I dunno, man, but we've gotta go. You know we do."

"Yeah, I know," Dean frowned, rubbing a hand over the bridge of his nose. "We'll have to borrow one of Bobby's cars."

"On it," Sam jumped out of his seat, brushing past Dean to go further into the house to find Bobby.

Dean plopped into one of the kitchen chairs, shaking his head as he stared at the grainy picture of his sister. She was another freaking puzzle to figure out. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had to worry about Sam, especially after what their dad had told him he might have to do… but he had to worry about Alex too. At least he knew what was going on with Sam, sort of, with the psychic powers and the yellow-eyed demon. But Alex? He had no idea what was going on with her. But next time he saw her he was going to make her tell him, even if it meant handcuffing her to a chair to make sure she didn't just disappear again. Too much had happened now for them to be keeping secrets. Their dad was dead.

Everything in their lives had changed, and it was not for the better.

* * *

_I hope you guys don't hate me too much. :( I've been working pretty hard lately. And I know this is a strange twist, but it felt right to me, so... here you go. Sorry about the wait, guys. 3 I hope it lives up to your expectations. And don't worry, this entire season is going to have Alex with the boys way more than the last season. _


	25. Chapter 25: Hauntings & Family Reunions

Burning. Everything was burning. The fires around her were so intense; she could hear people screaming in agony all around her… but all she could do was close her mind to what was happening and keep pushing on. She had to get out of this place. There wasn't a single part of her that didn't hurt. She could smell her burning flesh, and belatedly realized it was her own flesh. There were nightmares all around her, everything was a sickly yellow hue; she felt like she could lose her mind in this place, she had been here for so long…

With a gasp she bolted upright in her bed, breathing heavily and gripping the blankets that had pooled around her waist like a lifeline. It had been another nightmare. That was all. They were becoming so vivid lately. She could still feel her hands burning and smell the stench of melted flesh… She grimaced and closed her palms into fists, willing the feeling to go away as she climbed out of bed.

Of course, it didn't actually go away when she wanted it to. For some reason she felt like that would just be too simple to be her life. And if her nightmares were really glimpses into her past, then… well, it would be much too easy for the burning to just go away when she asked it to.

Her feet took her to the plastic mirror she had been given for "good behavior" that hanging on a wall by the door. Every morning since it was given to her by Dr. Lewis she would wake up and go look at herself, trying to find some hint that would just magically reveal everything she had forgotten. Other than being marginally attractive (she found she rather disliked her freckles and chin), there was nothing that ever helped her get closer to leaving this place. She picked up her small hairbrush, slowly brushing out the tangles in her curly brown hair while locking eyes with herself. Her eyes were just a normal deep brown, but she liked them. They reminded her of someone important to her. She looked a lot like whoever it was, she figured, because every time she would do this she felt the same way.

And then, just like every other day since she had been put in here, not long after she woke up, an orderly came to her door to make sure she was awake. Except this time, when the door opened, it was a man she had never seen around the place before. He was exceptionally tall, she would go so far as to say freakishly tall. His hair was sort of shaggy, a sandy brown color, and his eyes were blue-green with a sort of hazel edge…

"Alex?" the new orderly asked her, staring down at her, his brows furrowed as he looked her over.

She scrunched her face in confusion, her head tilting only slightly as she raised an eyebrow at him. "No. Jane," she told him shortly, pursing her lips when she saw him frown at that. "I'm not even sure if there's an Alex in this wing. Is Joe sick today or something? Or are you just new?"

"Uh," the man stuttered, apparently not expecting her to suddenly start questioning him so suspiciously, "New. I'm new. Uh, Dr. Lewis wanted me to… escort you? to his office."

For being an orderly he was pretty confused about his duties around here. If he hadn't been wearing the outfit and had a name badge with his picture on it she would've been extremely suspicious, but she shrugged it off instead. "Yeah, alright. Let me put on the retarded slippers. God forbid I leave this room without them." She went back to her bed and plopped onto it, tugging on the obnoxious slippers. He had chuckled lightly at what she had said, but was staying mostly quiet now. But she could still feel him watching her. And if he noticed the grains of salt he had pushed around by opening the door he didn't say.

They didn't really talk much after that. She was actually disappointed about that. She really liked him, which confused her. She hadn't warmed up that quickly to anyone she had met here, but the first time she sees this guy she wants to be friends? She was sure it wasn't attraction; she knew the difference in that and could tell she wanted nothing more than friendship with the new orderly.

It didn't take long for them to get to Dr. Lewis's office and the orderly knocked, opening the door when they heard a beckon from inside the room.

"Thank you, Sam," Dr. Lewis offered the new orderly a warm smile as Jane moved past him to sit in the chair across the desk from the doctor.

"Yeah, no problem," Sam replied, looking between Jane and Dr. Lewis. Jane offered him a lopsided smile as he stood there awkwardly, apparently unsure of what to do after this.

Dr. Lewis apparently noticed both Sam's awkwardness and Jane's attempted to comfort him, because he leaned forward in his desk and looked between them several times before speaking. "Would you like to stay, Sam? If Jane doesn't mind, that is. You did mention in your interview that you were interested in some day pursuing a degree in psychology." Apparently both Sam and Jane reacted with similarly relieved smiles, because Dr. Lewis sat back in his chair with a more smug attitude than before.

"I don't mind at all," Jane told them, smiling widely at Sam when he seemed to be relieved by the turn of events.

"Then have a seat, Sam," Dr. Lewis motioned to the second chair in front of the desk, the one by Jane. After he was settled Dr. Lewis pulled out his file on Jane, leafing through it and pushing his glasses further up his nose. "So, Jane, how did you sleep last night?"

She rolled her eyes at his question. It was how he started every single session with her. Apparently her dreams were entertaining to him or something. "Nightmare, like always," she told him offhandedly, sighing when he gave her a look that was clearly asking for her to elaborate. "It was like… everything around me was on fire. And I could hear screaming, agonised wailing. And I was trying to escape. I was climbing on giant iron chains that were connected to living people, and the chains were hot enough to burn my flesh off." She couldn't help but to smile at the fact that both Sam and Dr. Lewis cringed at her description. He had asked, after all, so she had told him. But it didn't keep her from balling her fists in her lap as they started to tingle again. "Anyway, Doc, I was hoping that today I could ask you a few questions."

Dr. Lewis raised an eyebrow at the sudden request, finishing off whatever note he was making on a sheet of paper about what she had said. "This is new, Jane. What made you decide you wanted to ask me questions?"  
She paused, glancing at Sam who was watching her as expectantly as Dr. Lewis was. "I-..." she bit her lip and narrowed her eyes slightly, considering what to say. "I heard a rumor," she finally decided on saying, locking eyes with Dr. Lewis to see his reaction.

"Well," he told her, lacing his fingers together as he rested his forearms on the desk. "I'll try my best to, but I'm afraid I don't really keep up with gossip."

"Not that kind of rumor," she quickly dismissed for him, crossing her legs and leaning forward slightly in her seat, giving her the air of someone much more important than just a mental patient. "What can you tell me about room 304?"

"Ah," Dr. Lewis nodded, apparently understanding what she was asking. "You've heard the ghost stories, I'm guessing. Rest assured, Jane, just as always, ghosts aren't real. I know, with the nature of some of your dreams, it could become more difficult for you to-..."

"Oh, shut up," Jane snapped at him, rolling her eyes as he once again tried to give her his speech on how supernatural creatures don't exist. "I haven't heard any ghost stories, actually. I was hoping you would tell me one."

"I'm afraid I have to refuse, Jane," Dr. Lewis told her solemnly, shaking his head as Jane's frustration grew. "It wouldn't be wise of me to give your imagination something else to keep you up at night with. How about we move on with our session and try to see if we can remember anything today?"

"How about you go fuck yourself?" Jane snapped, standing abruptly from her chair. "The session is over. I have more important things to do."

"Jane, please sit back down," Dr. Lewis' voice became more authoritative as she moved towards the door, standing up himself. "We've barely even began…"

"And now we're ending," Jane finished his sentence for him, glancing at Sam who had also stood and was watching her with a peculiar look on his face. "There's no way I'm the first patient you've had to walk out on a session. I'm sure you'll get over it."

She didn't stay around long enough to hear if Dr. Lewis or Sam said anything else, instead she moved with a purpose towards the food court. It was breakfast time, almost, and if she was lucky the man in 306, Jimmy, would be there. And, as luck would have it, he was going through the line right as she walked in. She walked towards him, ignoring the questioning glances of orderlies who knew she was supposed to be having a session with Dr. Lewis right now.

"Jimmy?" she asked as she got within earshot of him, stopping a few feet from him to watch him closely.

"Yep," he replied absently, pointing at some gray slop for the guy behind the food bar to ladle into a plate for him. "Figured you'd be comin' 'roun'."

"Well, you do seem to be the most sane out of the rest of the people here," she offered lightly, hoping her joke was conveyed correctly. He didn't respond to her as he kept moving down the line, occasionally pointing out what food he wants to the man who was fixing his plate. Jane glanced at the guy when she felt eyes on her, raising an eyebrow at him as they locked eyes. The food server's eyes were a fairly pretty green, and his chin was square like hers. In fact, she had a feeling they looked a lot alike. She felt like they did, anyway. The guy winked at her as she felt her lip curling into a half-smile. This was the second new face she had seen today, and it was odd how familiar this one was as well.

"If you two are done flirtin'," Jimmy spoke up gruffly, glancing between the guy who had made his breakfast and the woman that was pestering him. "I'd like ta' git on to my breakfast."

"We weren't-" the guy began incredulously, taking a step back as if the idea physically hurt him.

"We weren't flirting!" Jane finished, speaking at the same time as the guy but finishing the sentence. "Just… No. Look, Jimmy, you and I need to talk about room 304. Are you willing to do that?"

Jimmy didn't respond as he walked past her, brushing against her shoulder as he moved on. She grimaced at that. She had thought that coming outright like that may make him shut himself off, but he was the only one around here who had apparently seen the ghost she had… and he would be the only one who would believe her when she talked about it. So she did all she could do and turned to follow him. She would get him to talk either on his own or because she would pester him so much.

"Hey, princess," the guy serving food called out to her as she turned away, making her stop and turn back to him with furrowed brows. "Not having anything to eat?"  
She rolled her lips as she thought about what he had said. Not what he asked, she knew the answer to that. But what he had called her. "Princess"... it meant something to her. And for some reason it both annoyed her and made her feel happy that he had called her that. She shrugged and offered him a smile, glancing over her shoulder to where Jimmy had gone to sit down. "Not today, lunchlady," she told him, biting back a grin as the man groaned at being reminded of what he was, "I've got a ghost story to hear."

She ignored the questioning look on his face as she turned her back to him and made her way to Jimmy, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. One way or the other she was going to find out more about that ghost she had seen. She felt like it was important to know; like someone's life could be put on the information she received. But she was so absorbed in lining her thoughts up correctly and trying to figure out why she knew so much about ghosts that she didn't see the new food server meet up with the new orderly near the front of the room, both of them watching her curiously and talking lowly about her.

"I think she's on a hunt, Dean," Sam stuck his hands in his pockets, watching their sister as she sat across from an older guy. "I don't think she knows what a hunt is, but she's on one."

"Yeah, I got that," Dean snapped, frowning and crossing his arms. How he got stuck as lunchlady and Sam got to play orderly was beyond him, but it pissed him off. Serving food was lame. "She didn't even recognize me. How about you?"

"Not really," Sam shrugged, glancing at Dean and holding back a snicker at the hairnet he was forced to wear and the apron draped across his stomach. "Talked to her doctor a little, Dr. Lewis. Apparently she has pretty vivid dreams and he thinks they're her way of trying to remember her past. Of course, he doesn't think the parts about wendigos or spirits or werewolves are real, so he's not helping her at all by feeding her lies about that."

Dean nodded, his brows furrowing as he watched their sister start talking to the man, Jimmy. "Well, if she's on a hunt and has no idea what to do, she's gonna need some help."

"I've already started asking around," Sam nodded to the unspoken request, pulling his hands out of his pockets as he readied himself to go back to his duties. "I'm gonna go check out the room she mentioned now."

"I'll come with," Dean said quickly, reaching behind him to untie his apron.

"No way," Sam grinned at Dean's face, which was quickly becoming angrier. "You're a lunchlady, Dean. It'd be weird if someone found you walking around outside of the kitchen."

"Not another word," Dean said vehemently, scowling at Sam as Sam began to chuckle. "Just go, let me know if you find anything."

Sam bit back another laugh as he watched Dean skulk back into the kitchen, weaving his way through the growing crowd to go explore room 304. He spared another glance towards Alex as he approached the door, wondering what happened to her that made her apparently completely forget her past. And he couldn't help but to wonder about the dream she had described to Dr. Lewis. He had never even heard of a place like she had described… but he had more important matters to attend to right now. If there was a haunting in this place then it needed to be taken care of.

* * *

_Hey guys, two rapid fire chapters for your weekend. Hope you enjoy. I'm liking this entire little episode I'm working on. It's fun. :) Sorry we aren't any closer to figuring out what happened to Alex, but I hope you enjoyed the banter between her and her brothers regardless. Leave me a review if you want! Lemme know how it's going. _


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